Choice and Consequence
by purple-drake
Summary: REPOST Life is filled with choices. Choices are balanced with consequences. Separated by three regions, the choices of a father and his daughter could bring them together… if they can face the consequences first.
1. Consequences be Damned

_Hate._

_I hate him. I hate them. What they're doing is wrong; it will come to nothing but chaos. They worship death, they worship sorrow, they worship –_

– _the fire, the land, they worship blazing anger, fury, instead of cool reason, instead of calmness. They can fight it all they want, but it won't change the facts: that all life depends on water, on the ocean, without it –_

– _we would all be destroyed, because there would be no life without the land. It's where we live, it's what supports us, it gives us food and shelter and comfort. But the ocean… all it does is take life, without form, without meaning, all it does is kill…_

… _they talk like the land is a living thing, like it watches over us and makes sure we're provided for, but the truth is that it doesn't care. It takes away what we need most when we need it, makes its forms difficult to travel, hard to farm. The ocean's moods may change, but the land is unfeeling. He's –_

– _insane, to think that the world can survive on water; insane to think –_

– _that they could actually succeed. That's why –_

– _I have to stop him, no matter what. Because his dream is foolish._

_Because it would kill us all._


	2. A Life Half Lived

**A/N:** _Here it is, the rewrite of Choice and Consequence. I'm a little disappointed I haven't yet got any reviews for its prequel (pouts) but ah well, I can hope. Speaking of which, if you haven't read the prequel, Heart of the Magma, it would be a good idea to go do it now; otherwise you'll be missing out on a lot of back-history. You can find it in my profile._

_Now to skip over the disclaimer (do I really need to say I don't own_ _Pokémon?) and get on with the show!_

_EDITED (29/09/08): Because it's not a good idea to ask someone to concrit without at least putting up the most recently tweaked copy._

* * *

** I **

**A LIFE HALF LIVED**

"Ross!"

_Huh?_ Ross turned, startled, water sloshing against the streamlined hull of his boat at his aborted motion to pole off from the cobblestone-lined edge of the canal. Absently he brushed at his hair, the long wings of his fringe threatening to lash in his eyes with the crisp breeze that ruffled his red-and-white shirt and dark trousers.

A moment later he grinned; down the footpath he saw his friend Keegan dodging the morning pedestrians with muttered, breathless apologies, her sneakers pounding on the flagstones and cherry-blonde hair bouncing around her neck, her firestone pendant flashing in the sun. At her heels an orange-and-black growlithe bounded happily, the white tufts of fur on his head and beneath his chin rustling in the wind, and behind him—panting, small paws beating the stone relentlessly—was a brown eevee, looking bedraggled and tired.

"Well, hurry up then!" Ross called out cheerfully, stilling the gentle rock of his boat with the slim pole he had in one hand, flicking up the round brim of his hat with the other.

Minutes later he pushed off the edge again with a scrape of wood on stone, Keegan stretching her legs out beneath the slatted seats before her with a groan at her aching muscles, her face still red with exertion. At her side, the growlithe had his bright paws on the edge, shaggy head peering down into the clear water, and the eevee was sprawled, wheezing almost theatrically, on the seat ahead of her trainer, short legs outstretched.

The breeze was even cooler on the water but not uncomfortably so, refreshing them as it caught their clothes and fur, and Keegan let out a long breath, visibly relaxing on the short bench. "So, to what do I owe your company?" Ross asked brightly as he poled the boat along with smooth motions.

"Three guesses," Keegan muttered belligerently, leaning back on her elbows with her bangs shading her eyes.

Ross winced in understanding. "Ah. My company is preferable to your foster parents'." It wasn't a question, so Keegan's only answer was a snort that made both her pokémon flick their ears towards her in knowingness and frustration.

Everyone who knew Keegan and her family knew the problems that she and her guardians had. They were very protective people and she had a tendency to be reckless; as a result they clashed with each other on a great many issues, especially where the ocean was concerned. Keegan, having been found adrift quite aways from Alto Mare after a particularly violent storm, had an acute phobia for being in deep water. Living on a floating city as they did, most of the recreational activities were aquatic, and therein lay the problem.

"So what's up?"

"Another three guesses, and this time the first two don't count."

_Ah again._ "The water chariot race." Ross sighed, expertly steering the boat down a flooded alleyway, the tall stone buildings looming above them, casting shadows as the sunlight gleamed over the graceful steel railings arcing over the passage and along the empty balustrades above. "They said no."

Keegan's lips twisted in frustration and resentment, her blue eyes tracking the swell of the water against the craft's bow over her eevee's furry back. "It's not fair. Are they _trying_ to keep me from having a life?"

Another stroke, water rippling in the wake of the pole. "They're trying to keep you from getting hurt."

"They're overdoing it." Keegan snarled angrily, then grimaced, regretting it almost immediately. _Nice going, dummy, yell at the only person who'll listen to you._ "Sorry," she muttered, sitting up and wrapping her arms around herself in the prevalent chill of the back-alleys, her sleeveless white top and grey jacket not quite shielding her from the temperature.

"Mmm." was Ross' only answer, accepting her apology and encouraging her to continue. Keegan honestly didn't know what she'd do without him; there was only so much she could rant to Hazel and Firefoot, after all, and whenever she talked to Simon she felt he always had that 'you _know_ they doing it for your benefit' look in his eyes.

"_Eebui?"_ The former tumbled off her perch to crawl onto Keegan's lap, black eyes huge with concern, and the girl wound her fingers into her long brown fur.

"It's just…" Keegan let herself trail off, her thoughts churning, stomach still tight with anger directed at her foster parents. "They never let me _do_ anything." She hugged the fox-like pokémon, breathing in the fresh scent of her pelt, feeling the soothing rumble of her purring beneath her arms. "I know I don't like water and all, but I live on a damned floating _city._ I gotta work up a resistance to it sometime, you know? Sure, the open ocean still freaks me out, but this is different. Surfing is… it's…" She bit her lip, not sure how, exactly, surfing was different to other water-based sports but knowing it was.

"It's all about control," Ross supplied quietly, and Keegan perked up, nodding her head so fiercely that she jostled Hazel.

"That's it. I can control it. Swimming and boating you're at the mercy of the waves, but surfing it's you, your chariot and your pokémon." Her eyes went dark and she gripped the heavy pendant at her throat, feeling its comforting warmth, red light flickering in its depths.

Ross felt he should say something, but didn't know what; instead he settled for another "Mmm", his strokes long and even, shadows dappling over them as they coasted beneath another of the wrought-iron arches and back into the sunlight of an open canal.

For a long time they were all silent, enjoying the brisk wind, the lap of water on the smooth hull and the glide of the other boats as they passed, the soft chatter of voices—both human and pokémon—on the broad cobbled streets.

"Ross…" Keegan spoke up finally, head bowed, stroking Hazel almost absently.

"Mmm?"

"Can I…" she faltered, hesitant, as though what she was about to ask was beyond the lines of friendship, and with a sudden twist of his stomach Ross thought he knew what she was going to say. When she confirmed his suspicions it was in a rush of words, turning half around to watch him out of the corner of her eye. "Can I borrow Wailmer and take your place in the water chariot race tomorrow?"

Even though he was half expecting it Ross' chest clenched, and for a few moments he said nothing, the wide brim of his hat shading his face. It wasn't that he was especially looking forward to the race—although he was, you could almost say that chariot-racing was his vice—it was that, in some ways, he agreed with Keegan's parents. He did think they should let her off a little more than they did, but disobeying them in such a way wouldn't help the situation.

Keegan apparently took his silence for refusal, because she turned around fully, her blue eyes wide and anxious. "I mean—I know you practice a lot for them and you want to redeem your loss from the open race a while back—but it's not like it won't come again and you've got so many of the pendants we can hardly see the walls of your room anymore—" Her tone was quick, babbling, almost… desperate.

It was that, more than anything, which decided him, that and the mental image of her whipped-puppy expression if he really did rebuff her. He sighed, wishing—not for the first time—that he had the strength to say no.

"Alright," he conceded, and the way that her face lit up beneath her red-blonde hair, a beam spreading across her thin features, her eyes sparkling, almost made it all worth it right then and there.

* * *

When the next day came Keegan was abuzz with energy, feeling drained and tired from a sleep interrupted by excitement and worry but still far too hyped to be brought down by it for long.

Even worse was the fact that Miriam expected her to help in the library that morning—the books needed constant care to make sure the salt water didn't damage them. That meant that Keegan had to face her guardians with an appropriately disappointed expression when her stomach was twisting itself into knots out of excitement and fear that they would discover her plans.

A part of her did suggest that perhaps she explain and tell them she was entered, and perhaps manage to convince them to let her enter by virtue of obligation, but she squashed it.

_They wouldn't let me. They'd never let me do something so 'reckless' and 'irresponsible'. They're so afraid of me getting hurt that they barely even let me _breathe_…_

It was going to be close, at any rate. They needed to get to the library, then Keegan needed to get away for a few minutes to escape, then she needed to fight the crowd to the starting location—the races were popular, and the canals were always packed—so she didn't have all that much time.

Fortunately she was in the middle of emptying out some boxes from the back room; that meant she could turn on the television to make it sound like she was in there, sneak out the window and be gone. Miriam wasn't likely to check on her all that often, and by the time she did, it would be too late.

So deep was she in laying her plans that Keegan hardly even noticed when the reached the broad marble steps of the library, leading in a shallow slope right down to the water front. The wide canal was already speckled with a few bystanders, lingering in the shade of the few small trees nearby, since the race would pass through that point.

In fact, she didn't notice _any_thing until Miriam's concerned voice interrupted her thoughts. "Keegan…"

Keegan jumped, startled, and lifted her head to meet Miriam's worried brown eyes. The woman had paused in the motion of opening the tall doors, but Keegan hadn't been paying attention. "Uh huh?" she asked, trying not to look guilty and feeling even more so with Firefoot and Hazel pressing up against her bare legs.

For a moment Miriam just looked at her, her plump face framed by short brown curls. "You know we're not trying to hurt you," she said quietly, and Keegan's stomach clenched with familiar, tired aggravation.

_Why does this keep coming up?_ she thought wearily. _I just want it all to be over. I'm tired of fighting. Maybe when they see I can handle myself they'll stop trying to restrict me so much._

"I know," she answered instead, not entirely sure how convincing she sounded.

It must have been good enough, though, because Miriam only regarded her for a moment more before giving a short nod, her cheeks dimpling with a tiny smile. "I'm sure you'll find plenty of time to watch Ross on the local channel anyway, hmm?" she teased, and Keegan went red.

"Of course I will," she answered, determinedly not responding to the jibe. Ross was only her friend, but Miriam and her uncle Simon kidded her relentlessly about the fact that her closest human companion was a guy.

Unwillingly she trailed her chuckling foster mother into the mosaic floor of the entryway before departing and making her way through the looming shelves to the tiny storeroom right in the back, her pokémon at her heels. Once there she closed the wooden door and leaned back against it, taking deep breaths against nausea, shutting her eyes and trying to will away the stuffiness of the room. _Oh, I wish I hadn't had breakfast._

"_Grawlth?"_ She felt Firefoot's weight against the backs of her legs and took comfort in it, his long fur tickling her skin.

_Right. I can do this._ Another deep breath.

"_Eebuu."_ Gracefully Hazel leapt onto the low cabinet just across the way, squeezed against the wall between boxes and shelves, and pawed at the small antique TV, which flickered to life. The sound made Keegan's eyes flutter open and she swallowed.

"Okay. Let's go."

As one unit they moved to the high, round window on the outside wall, paws and shoes soft on the faded carpet. Keegan heaved Firefoot up to the top of the rickety bookcase in front of it, steadying the shelves until the growlithe had nosed open the latch and moved onto the round windowsill. Hazel was next, following Firefoot onto the slight ledge ringing the building just outside, and Keegan came last, pulling the window closed behind her, feeling a glimmer of amusement as she imagined Miriam entering the office to find it empty, with no sign of how she had left.

Okay, so Miriam probably wouldn't wonder, but it was a funny image, and Keegan needed the distraction. Badly.

Within seconds they were all back on cobblestone, in the shadow of the buildings and with the damp of the canal alongside, hurrying down the narrow lane towards the open street ahead.

Behind them, the television blared to an empty room.

* * *

Anxiously Ross scanned the multi-coloured crowd, absently giving his wailmer more slack when the rubbery round pokémon tugged impatiently on the leash, eager to be off. _It's almost time… if she's not here soon…_ he trailed off, not sure how to the end the sentence before his subconscious decided for him.

_If she's not here soon, maybe it was for the best._

Violently he shook his head, his long bangs flapping around his face. _Can't think like that. She's already feeling oppressed, what'll she do if she finds out I half agree with them?_

A deep, echoing rumble from Wailmer made Ross turn, and to his relief he saw Firefoot bound out of the crush of the people, tongue lolling happily. Hazel squeezed her way past two legs, looking ruffled, with Keegan on her heels, muttered apologies on the girl's lips.

Keegan's shoes were off almost before she'd reached the brown-haired young man, and he pressed a hand to her shoulder, leaning in to whisper, "Good luck," as he pushed the handle into her hands, backing away from the edge before he had a chance to register or act upon the lingering pang of doubt.

If he had seen Keegan's face right then, he might have pulled out after all. _Oh God, I can't believe I'm going to do this…_

Gingerly she stepped onto the slick, streamlined chariot, the black matting rough beneath her bare feet, and almost tipped over there and then as the vessel rocked. Her heart leapt to her throat and her arms windmilled slightly as she fought to keep her balance, splashing water up the curb; but Wailmer knew his stuff, gently pulling the line taut until she could steady herself.

Before she knew it she was at the starting banner, staring down into the clear water, at the smooth bottom fragmented by the gentle waves. _I really _am_ doing this._

_I think I should have thought about this more…_

_No way. If you'd thought about it, you would've backed out. Coward._

She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the insane urge to giggle at her internal monologue. That was how she always worked things out: as though there was two of her.

Right now one was saying she was insane and that she wasn't so prideful as to pull out.

The other was revelling at the cool breeze in her plaited hair, at the gentle rock of the chariot, the slight twinges of satisfaction when she kept her balance easily. _I'm sticking with my decision. I'm going to find out just how good I am. That's good. It has to be good, right?_

If only her foster parents knew that Ross had been teaching her to surf. All at night, of course, so no one would know, and far away from their house; and of course it wasn't anywhere near at racing speed, but still. She _had_ learned. She knew what she was doing.

_That's right. I know what to do. Everything's going to be fine._ Fleetingly she touched her pendant for good luck, casting a sidelong glance at the crowd, where she caught Ross' bright red-and-white shirt in the front and an equally bright orange-and-black figure sitting restlessly next to a brown one at her friend's feet.

The xatu crowed.

Keegan's heart leapt.

With an abrupt surge they were in motion, Keegan's plaited hair lashing in the wind, her breath caught away by the speed and chill of the spray which drenched her, the chariot vibrating beneath her feet as the sidelines flashed past on either side. _Oh God I'm going to fall I can't believe I'm doing this—_

The chariot wobbled and her stomach twisted, automatically moving to compensate and losing speed as someone cut in front of her. _Don't think. Don't think. Just do it._

She regained her balance, her skin already numbed by the damp chill and the resistance of the air, her ears filled with the distant roar of wind and cheers. Ahead the dimmed entrance into the alleys loomed, and in an instant they swept into the cool shade, casting splashes of water up against grey stone as they passed in a flash of gleaming red and yellow.

* * *

Humming absently, Miriam picked up the stack of old books she'd just sorted from the shelves, groaning a little under their weight. She had to check them regularly; the older books were more susceptible to the dampness of the salt air, so once they passed a certain age they had to be shipped to the library on the mainland. It was Keegan's job to pack and unpack boxes—she seemed to enjoy being secreted away where no one could see her, surrounded by the smell of paper.

_I can just take a gander at the television while I'm there, too,_ Miriam mused, weaving her way expertly among the narrow paths of the main library. _Simon said Marlin was going to enter this race. What those men see in it, I'll never know… but I suppose it's better than gambling on those ponyta races on the mainland…_

As she came to the door she heard the tinny sound of the TV and smiled, her suspicions confirmed. Keegan never missed watching a race if she could help it; Miriam had given up trying to get her interested in something else. _She's worse than that confounded brother-in-law of mine. Little fox indeed._ Using her elbow, she managed to lever open the door, expecting to catch her foster daughter darting guiltily towards an open box to pretend that she hadn't been slacking off to watch the race.

What she saw was an empty room.

Startled, for a moment she just blinked around, automatically moving to set the pile of books down on the round table in the centre of the cluttered study.

"—_definitely some fierce competition in the ranks today, perhaps due to former champion Ross' last-minute withdrawal. Now we've got neighbourhood favourites vying to snatch up the title he finally lost in the open race just two months ago, but his replacement's turning out to be fair competitor herself…"_

_What? Ross withdrew?_ Miriam whirled towards the television, the mystery of Keegan's disappearance momentarily forgotten. Everyone knew how much Ross loved the water chariot races.

What she saw made her freeze with shock, her eyes widening incredulously as the camera zoomed in on the contestant who had apparently taken Ross' place. Even as distorted with spray as the image was, the lashing blonde hair, denim shorts and cut-off shirt were all too recognisable.

_Keegan…_

As she watched, the chariots sped around a tight corner, throwing up water, the riders leaning in on the turn. Keegan hauled on the leash, turning sharply and then drawing in the opposite direction with enough speed to cut in front of the person not far in front of her, making the seadra pull back in alarm and sending its trainer head-over-heels into the water.

_She's pretty good,_ Miriam noted numbly, in some distant corner of her mind which understood—you didn't live on a floating city without picking up some kind of an appreciation for aquatic sports, after all, no matter how much she bemoaned it.

But the rest of her—_most_ of her—was clenched in fear and disbelief. _Oh, God, she's afraid of water, she's going so fast, what happens if she falls or hits her head or one of them runs over her—_

They say that karma has a sense of humour, but laughter was the last thing on Miriam's mind when, to her horror, she saw the grainy image of her foster daughter meet briefly with the curb. The vessel was sent spinning out of control, rocking violently and throwing a stumbling Keegan off, right into the deepest centre of the wide canal.

* * *

Keegan's hand was dead, her arm was aching, her ears were numb, her feet chafed, her legs stiff and her entire body exhilarated as she burst out of the final closed alley, the sun a flash of warmth that was lost in the prevalent cold of the wind beating against her. _We're in the last stretch, come on, we can do this!_

Squinting through the spray and lash of hair in her eyes she could see the figure of another competitor just in front of her and to the right, a young man in whose wake she'd been riding for half the race. _I'll have to take care of that._

As they approached a turn she pulled on the leash, guiding Wailmer to cut the corner as near as she dared, and her feet tickled with vibrations as the chariot scraped the edge.

But she didn't have time to be afraid of unbalancing, because that was when she leaned in the opposite direction, the chariot dipping in the backwash of water, the weight of air pushing her down as they cut in front of the scaly seadra's nose. Keegan just caught the seahorse's surprised expression before they pulled ahead, her spare arm jerking in the air as she strove to catch her balance from the stunt, her heart pounding in her throat and cheeks aching from her fixed, exultant grin.

_Final turn, there we go, then it's up the home stretch—_

There were still people in front of her but she was having far too much fun to care, even though her body was itchy with the salt and wind and complaining against the drag of air resistance.

She hadn't quite gotten her stability back before the bend was right _there_, closer than she'd thought it was, and with a muffled oath she pulled on the leash to turn—

_Too fast!_

The chariot slanted, threatening to dump her against the ledge, and she desperately tried to correct herself. Obediently Wailmer swerved away from the edge, but as a result of the speed and angle the chariot careened back across the water, its curved side hitting the corner.

The chariot was sent spinning out of control into the middle of the channel and the leash wrenched out of Keegan's hand, making her world tilt. For a moment all she could see was sky, the mat rough beneath her feet and arms windmilling wildly as she instinctively fought to keep her balance, but it was too late. She hit the water with a jolting blow that made her gasp, swallowing liquid, and then it all closed over her head, her body dragged down by fatigue and shock.

A second later panic kicked in. _OhGodcan'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe—_

She thrashed, terrified, clutching at the light which shone in fragmented swirls on the surface, buffeted by the underwater backlash of passing chariots. _Goingtodiedon'tletmedrown—_

Something blue and round came up beneath her, bumping against her suddenly. Wordlessly she shrieked, clawing at whatever was there, unable to realize that it was just Wailmer, patiently absorbing her assault and trying to nudge her towards the surface, but her flaying about just sent her further away from the pokémon.

There was a soundless whump of water, casting them apart; then something strong gripped her around her shoulders, pulling her upwards until her head broke the surface with a sobbing gasp. One hand instinctively seized a muscular arm with an iron grip, held tightly against a broad chest and alternatively coughing and crying. Her ears rang distantly with shouts and cheers, her body numbed and exhausted from adrenaline rush. By the time they'd reached the side—how had that happened?—she had calmed down to huge, shaky breaths.

"Keegan!" Ross was suddenly there, pushing through the crowd, his brown eyes worried as she gripped the side, revelling in the solid feel of crumbly stone against her thin body. Hazel all but danced in front of her, keening anxiously, her white ruff looking bedraggled in the dampness.

"Here you go, little fox," a familiar voice grunted, and abruptly hands heaved her up and over the edge as she scrambled for the cobblestone. Ross caught her, already wrapping a faded towel around her trembling shoulders, Firefoot whining deep in his throat as he licked her salty arm. Dazedly Keegan looked towards the canal in time to see a bearded bear of a man haul himself onto the sidewalk with a grunt, his blue tank top clinging to him wetly and water pouring off him with tiny splashes.

_Marlin,_ she registered dimly. Hazily she noted the overturned chariot bobbing in the centre of the canal, Wailmer's round top visible over the edge of the curb, and the lithe blue golduck sitting on a second upright blue-and-green chariot, still with harness straps across its chest.

That's when everything that had happened sank in, and she looked numbly around at the few concerned onlookers, at the distant, cheering crowd near the tall banner some distance up the way, vaguely listening to Ross' platitudes and self-recriminations.

_Oh. I'm going to be in so much trouble._

* * *

Keegan was sitting at the kitchen table with her head lowered miserably, her wet hair hanging limply around her thin face, loosened by the wind from its plait, half curled on the chair. She was still a little damp, but when Firefoot had dolefully dragged her favourite blanket down from her room she hadn't passed up its comfort, wrapping herself up in it and drawing her legs up to her chest. It was a deep purple, with a woven filigree border of silver tangled around the same-coloured silhouettes of the many existing gym badges, and it'd been a present for her first birthday on Alto Mare.

Firefoot had settled himself on the tiled floor beside her wooden chair, nestled in the folds that draped to the ground, while Hazel was sitting on the table, alternatively glancing towards the slightly rickety stairs leading to the second floor and watching her mistress. Peter and Miriam were up there now, talking to decide her fate.

Well, maybe that was a little overdramatic, but Keegan felt she deserved being dramatic. Her _life_ was one big drama and always had been, from the time that Pete and Simon had discovered her floating in the ocean to when she'd woken up with no memory of who she was and with only her firestone pendant—and Hazel—to her name, to now, restricted by her foster parents based on some stupid idea that she couldn't handle herself.

_I was handling myself just fine,_ she fumed without much heat at all, too tired and despondent to work up the energy.

_Right up until you fell in the water,_ the other part of herself which held no illusions pointed out, and Keegan laid her head miserably on her knees.

_Oh, shut up,_ was all she could think of to say. _I don't want to hear it. I'm tired of hearing it. I just want to get out…_

_Oh, stop being so self-pitying. You knew what the consequences would be when you entered. You didn't actually expect to _win,_ did you?_

Keegan sniffled, making Hazel's ears flick worriedly and Firefoot look up with a whine deep in his throat. _Well, no, but it would've been nice. Would've made the punishment easier to bear._

_Oh, I get it. So as long as you get something good out of it you're fine, but as soon as the slightest bad thing happens, you give up, is that right?_

Keegan twitched. She was _not_ giving up… was she? She just wanted to rest a little… rest from all the fights and accusations and resistances…

"But I'm the one who's resisting, aren't I?" she whispered.

"_Bubui,"_ Hazel mewed dismally, pawing at her blonde hair, curling with the damp as it dried.

"Do you think I should just give in, Hazel?" Keegan asked without moving, her arms wrapped around her legs and face half obscured by soft fabric of the blanket. "Stop arguing, and just accept that I'm never going to get anywhere?"

"_Eebui!"_

Hazel's reply was so loud that it made Keegan jump, looking up at her bristling eevee with wide eyes. "Is that a no?" the girl asked shakily, and Hazel's ears flapped as she stamped the tabletop firmly with one paw.

"_Graawll…"_ A glance down at Firefoot showed his usually dopey-eyed expression was one of earnest seriousness, and despite herself Keegan smiled; wanly, perhaps, but truly.

_That's a no._

Feeling a little calmer with such steadfast support behind her, Keegan glanced back towards the stairs, the light from the globe in the middle of the ceiling casting shadows over her face. The door beneath the stairs which opened onto the street was closed, but she knew it was getting nearer to sunset because of the glass sliding doors behind her, leading out onto the boat-deck. They lived on the very edge of the city, so their house was half on the water.

It wasn't long after the race had ended then did Miriam storm up the pavement, furious and terrified, and it was that obvious terror which made Keegan want to curl up and die with guilt, especially when Miriam fussed and cried over her first rather than chew her out.

Ross had wanted to come back with her to take some of the blame, but Keegan wouldn't let him; it was her idea, her fault, and she didn't think she could bear having what promised to be the biggest row they'd ever had in front of her best friend.

Marlin had come, though, maybe to give witness, maybe to give damnation, but it didn't matter and he hadn't stayed long, just talking quietly to Pete for a few minutes before leaving.

Ross had managed to tell her—while Miriam was thanking the bearded fisherman fervently—that as soon as Marlin had seen her he'd fallen back and stayed on her tail for the whole of the race, even though he'd had plenty of opportunities to pass and possibly take the lead.

The knowledge only made her feel guiltier.

_Guilt is going to get you nowhere,_ that voice spoke up again, the one that Ross had affectionately dubbed 'the little fox' when she'd told him about it. It was the one which always encouraged her to do reckless or sneaky things, which, she assumed, was what earned her the nickname in the first place. _You made your decision, and Marlin made his. Just be glad he was there and get over it._

_That's right,_ Keegan realized with a blink. _I made my decision. I stuck with it. Even though I'm going to cop so much from Miriam and Pete, I'm willing to deal with the consequences. How can that be bad? It's hard, maybe, but not _bad_._

_You're learning._

"_Bui?"_ Hazel's ear twitched and a second later Keegan heard the sound of a door closing softly upstairs, followed by two pairs of footsteps. She took a deep, slightly shaky breath, uncurling herself from the chair and stretching her deadened limbs, letting the blanket fall against the back.

_It was bad. I was scared. But it could have been worse, and now I know my limits for sure. I don't want to fight. I'll handle this like an adult, and maybe they'll see…_

But when her foster parents reached the first floor, Keegan found herself unable to look either of them in the eye, instead staring down at the rough wood of the table.

"Keegan," Pete said in his quiet voice, and the girl flinched, gripping the edges of the seat. "We want you to know that we're disappointed. We thought you had more sense than that, and we trusted you—"

_Ex_cuse_ me?_ "You never did!" Keegan blurted, her head snapping up before she remembered her vow to handle this like an adult and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she whispered, her stomach twisting when she saw Miriam's shocked, tearful expression, her face red with crying.

Pete just looked tired, his face lined and roughened with years of sailing, and the purple aipom sitting on his shoulder cocked his head, throwing a warning look at an alert Hazel. "We trusted you," Pete repeated, "To know your limits and to trust that _we_ know what's best for you—"

Keegan couldn't help it. "But I don't!" she burst out, and Miriam flinched before Keegan realized what it sounded like. "I mean my limits," the girl added quickly, managing to force her voice into a lower tone. "How can I ever know what my limits are unless I _test_ them first?" Pete frowned and opened his mouth to answer, his aipom staring, but Keegan took a deep breath and rushed on before he could do so. "You say you trust me, but you've never given me a chance to see what I can do. All we know is that I'm scared of water because of something that happened a long time ago—how am I meant to know if I can handle myself _now_ unless I do something about it?"

"But you didn't!" Miriam said shrilly. "Marlin said you were panicking—drowning—you could have _died,_ Keegan, you _would_ have died if he hadn't been there!"

"But now I _know_," Keegan said passionately. "Now I _know_ what I can and can't do, instead of just assuming that things are the same as they were!"

"Keegan," Pete said quietly in That Voice, the one which proved that he was the dominant one of the marriage, no matter how controlling Miriam appeared to be. "If you know what your limits are, then what do you intend to do about them?"

Keegan fell silent, staring in his direction in thought but not _at_ him, which brought the aipom into view, his tail whisking this way and that behind Pete's back. "I… would…"

"Would you continue to do reckless things, like riding in the chariot races, even though it's clear how dangerous it is?"

Keegan's cheeks flamed before she could stop them, because that's exactly what she had in mind. She didn't want to just sit down and accept that she had a fear, she wanted to _conquer_ it.

Pete nodded. "I see."

"But what's so _wrong_ about that?" Keegan demanded, a lump beginning to start in her throat. She thought she'd be doing so well at keeping herself calm, but she was beginning to lose it. This was going to turn out like all those other times. "What's wrong… with wanting to get over something?"

"It's too _dangerous_, little fox!" Miriam cried, gripping her husband's arm tightly as though for support, and Keegan felt a flash of anger at the nickname.

_Don't call me that—you're not my parents—you don't have to right—_

Swiftly the girl clamped down on her instinctive, furious response, swallowing hard against frustrated tears.

"You can't go out _looking_ for danger, that just makes you foolish!" The woman's voice turned pleading, watery, and Pete patted her plump hand reassuringly.

"It's that fact which proves you're not mature enough to make those kinds of decisions for yourself," he said grimly.

"That's not true!" Keegan leaped out of the chair, making it squeal on the tiles and Firefoot jump up in surprise before it tumbled over him. "It's—it's different! It's—"

_It's a matter of opinion,_ 'little fox' supplied. _That is, if you have the skill and power to keep it from _being_ dangerous._

_Which I don't,_ Keegan realized with dawning horror that Miriam was right. How could she race chariots if she couldn't handle herself when something _did_ go wrong?

_But how can I learn to handle myself unless I race chariots?_

"It's not just a matter of maturity," Pete cut off whatever she was going to babble next—and not even _she_ knew what she was going to say—"But a matter of _rules._ You disobeyed. You _always_ disobey, Keegan, you always go where you're not supposed to. Remember when you tried to climb the library to clean off the windows in the attic?"

"But—"

"And what about using Simon's fishing sloop without permission? If you'd asked, you'd have _known_ it needed repairs."

"I just—"

"Or the time you wanted to see the police training their growlithe? You almost got burned!"

"But I didn't!" Keegan exploded, furious, knowing that she'd probably just destroyed any credibility she might have gained in the beginning but unable to care. "I didn't, I can't believe you're still going _on_ about those things, you never let me _do_ anything because you always think that _you_ know best! Well, what about _me?_"

"What about us?" Miriam whispered, staring at her with wide, wet eyes. "What about the people who worry about you when you almost get hurt?"

"I'm sorry, little fox, but we're grounding you until further notice," Peter said quietly, but with authority.

"Don't _call_ me that!" Keegan screamed, her fists clenched at her sides and tears spilling down her cheeks, knowing she was being irrational, too far gone to stop. "Don't call me that if that's not what you want me to _be!_ You just want me to be some perfect daughter who'll do whatever you say, but I'm _not!_ I'm not like that and _I'm not your daughter!_"

With that she snatched the blanket off the chair, making it topple with a crash, and fled up the stairs, Hazel and Firefoot following after her with twin keens of distress.

* * *

Keegan lay staring up at the slanted wooden ceiling of her room, hugging her pillow to her chest, half swathed in the folds of her blanket. Firefoot was a warm, panting weight against her side and she could hear Hazel purring in her ear, curled around her head in a tangle of blonde hair.

The girl felt completely wrung out and exhausted, and her eyes itched from crying so much. She wanted to sleep, but at the same time didn't; what she really wanted was to do something, something to end all this.

"I can leave," she whispered, and Firefoot lifted his head from his paws, his ears flickering forward at the sound of her voice. "I can leave, and that way I can find out what's going on with me." She pushed herself up, still clutching her pillow to her lap, but her eyes now roaming the postered walls of the room as she thought. "I mean, plenty of kids go out on pokémon journeys, right? And they're usually younger than I am. It wouldn't be so different. And maybe it's time to go. I'm not happy here anymore. I'm not happy not knowing…"

Her hand drifted up to clench around the soothing weight of her firestone pendant, her eyes alighting upon the poster at the foot of her bed: an image of most of the Legendaries against a cliff-side seascape, with waves crashing on the rock, an image she'd always associated the most with freedom.

_I'm not happy not remembering._

With an abrupt movement that signalled she'd made her decision she swung her legs off the bed, opening the door to the battered wardrobe just behind the entrance and grabbing her roomy shoulder bag off the handle. "I can't take a lot of stuff, but if we leave anything behind we'll be able to buy them once we out to a port," she said quickly, half thinking, half needing to get her tension out. _I can't believe I'm doing this._

"There should be one or two more ferries due to leave this evening, it's not very dark yet, but we'll have to hurry…" With practised swiftness she folded up her blanket and stuffed it into the bottom, followed by several changes of clothes and other necessities.

Hazel and Firefoot had already caught on; within a few minutes the bag was full of the supplies they needed and Keegan was dressed in something more substantial for travelling.

_One last thing._

She went to the low bookshelf slung across the wall opposite her bed, right beneath the long window that led out onto the street, and pulled her favourite magazines haphazardly from the ledge, spreading them out on the floor.

_I have enough room for some of them. Wish I didn't need to leave most of them behind…_

And she wanted something to look at on the ferry to avoid looking at the ocean; it was going to be hard enough, boarding a ship, but she thought that she might be just tired enough to do it, as long as she didn't think about it too much. It was the morning after she was worried about.

But first she had to choose which issues of her Pokémon Journal collection she wanted to take.

Most of them were about the Elites; she loved reading about them, not their scandals and lives like other magazines wrote about all celebrities, but their battles, their pokémon, their achievements.

The first one was easy enough: the bonus issue on Lance the Indigo Champion. Although Keegan didn't want to be a Pokémon Master herself, the fact that someone could reach to those kinds of heights gave her something to aspire to.

And, if she wanted to be honest, she was a big fan for other reasons too.

"_Grrlth,"_ Firefoot nudged another glossy magazine over to her with a whine, and after a hesitant moment of flipping through it Keegan added it to the pile.

Wallace hadn't always been the Evergrande Champion, but he had taken over after Steven retired, so that meant he had to be good, right?

_And besides, he's really philosophical. It's like he knows all the answers. I'm having a bit of trouble with that right now…_

The last two were more difficult, but eventually she decided one of them should be the volume about Flannery. The young woman had come under a lot of fire when she became gym leader, despite the fact that her grandfather had been a member of the Elite Four in his day. It was just that a lot of people didn't think she was competent enough for the job.

Keegan had followed the story in every article she could find. Flannery did seem a bit bumbling and uncertain, but she was still willing and determined to do what she loved, and Keegan couldn't help but admire her for that.

Then she looked around at her collection in dismay, completely out of ideas. She didn't have issues on _all_ the Elites—although she had been planning to collect them—but the ones she had were so _interesting._ How was she supposed to choose between them?

_I suppose I can just take three,_ she thought dismally, picking one up randomly and flicking through the pages.

Then something caught her eye and she hastily flipped backwards to where she'd seen it, coming to a brightly-coloured article and scanning through it.

'—_said that despite his expertise in ghost pokémon, Morty has his own special psychic ability. This, which he calls the power of 'far seeing', enables him to seek objects, pokémon or people and gain an impression of where they are or what condition they're in…'_

The article went on, but Keegan's heart skipped a beat.

_He can find things—lost things—he can point me where to go—_

Hurriedly she put the magazine on the top of the pile and stuffed them into the side of her bag; she'd finish reading the article later, but for now she had to hurry.

And now she was filled with a new sense of excitement, of urgency; she couldn't wait to get to Ecruteak, because finally she had something to _look_ for, something to work towards.

"Sorry about this, Firefoot," she apologised, lifting his pokéball and returning him in a beam of red light just as he whined his acquiescence. Straightening up, Keegan shrank the pokéball and returned it to her belt, slinging her bag over her shoulder with a slight groan at its unexpected weight. Then she moved to the narrow window and turned the latch to push it open…

But it didn't move.

For a moment Keegan stared. _You've got to be kidding._ She rattled it, shoved it, but nothing happened. If she hadn't felt so exhausted she probably would have cried again; as it was she felt her chest getting tight. "What… how did they find out?"

Hazel didn't even get a chance to answer what could have been a rhetorical question, because that's when the door opened with a creak and Keegan whirled around, eyes wide and wild, automatically hiding her bag behind her back.

Simon stood for a moment in the doorway, taking in her guilty, defiant face, her clothes, the magazines still scattered on the floor.

Then his brown eyes locked on hers and he moved into the room, shutting the door behind him with a click. "Marlin saw you," he said quietly in his deep, grating voice, not seeming intimidating at all despite his thickly muscled arms, his sleeveless shirt making them seem even bigger than they were. "When you snuck out last week. He was coming by to my place for the evening."

"Oh." Keegan said in a small voice, completely unable to think of anything to say.

She had a habit of slipping out at night and wandering the streets of Alto Mare to look at the stars or learn how to ride chariots from Ross. She knew Peter and Miriam did what they did because they cared about her, but that didn't stop her from feeling confined. Being out at night, when the city was empty, helped alleviate her frustration.

"You were really going to leave," Simon said, his tone a thick vein of several things Keegan couldn't recognise, and she nodded mutely.

He smiled. "Good."

There was stunned silence as Keegan gaped at him, and he grinned at her expression. "I never agreed with their way of raising you. You've got too much spunk. You've always learned by making mistakes; that's just the way you are, just like doing everything in their power to stop those mistakes from happening at all is the way my brother and Miriam is. You were never going to be happy just staying here, but they're too focussed on trying to control you to realize it."

"What do I do?" Keegan asked in a small voice, clutching her bag to her side, Hazel huddled supportively at her legs.

Simon held out his hand, revealing the tarnished key resting on his palm. After a beat of surprise Keegan took it, used it, feeling a rush of relief when the window opened. When she tried to return the key to Simon he refused, instead holding out a pokégear device which looked small in his big hand. "Call," he said simply when she clipped it to her belt, slipping the key into one of the bag's side pockets. "Sometime, when you feel ready."

"I will," Keegan promised, but he wasn't done yet, forcing a thick wad of notes and a ticket into her hand as she turned to leave.

"This'll take you to Cianwood, it's closest," he told her. "There's one last ferry leaving, but you'll have to hurry."

_I can't believe he's doing all this,_ Keegan thought numbly, staring at the ticket, the money scrunched up in her other hand. _I always thought he was on their side._

Her daze shattered and she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She was speechless with gratitude, her eyes turning wet, her throat clogged, but Simon seemed to understand, giving her a fond squeeze back. "You know they love you, little fox," he rumbled quietly, and she nodded against his chest.

"I know." She pulled back and wiped her eyes, stuffing the money and the ticket into her bag as Hazel jumped up on the sill, giving a mew of farewell to the fisherman. "Goodbye, Simon."

Keegan scrambled out the window into the narrow alley and onto the eaves of the window below, Hazel grabbing the strap of her bag with her teeth and riding it expertly as her mistress hitched it up onto her shoulder. Without looking back, the girl clambered like an aipom down the gutter and scuttled down the street, unaware that Simon's burly frame was filling the backlit window, watching her as she disappeared around the corner.

_I can't leave just yet,_ she thought desperately, a stitch already beginning to jab into her side as she ran down the cobblestone, illuminated yellow by the setting sun. Hazel bounded at her heels, struggling to keep up but not complaining, having dropped off her impromptu ride as soon as they reached the ground. _Although I'll have to be quick—the ferry'll need to leave the harbour before full dark._

She didn't want to have to explain to Ross' dad what she was doing up at this hour, dressed like she was going on an excursion, and Ross' balcony happened to overhang the canal in which he moored his boat; but the building in question was easy to climb and Keegan had scaled it dozens of times when she wanted to visit without their parents knowing.

It was this technique that she used when she reached his house, chilled and shivering slightly despite the long sleeves of her top and her exertions. Within minutes she'd dropped down onto the small terrace, bathed in the yellow glow of Ross' bedroom light, and rapped at the window, her face numbed by the breeze. Instantly Ross looked up from the book he was reading and tossed it aside, opening the glass door.

He took in Hazel, standing on the wrought-iron balustrade, and Keegan's bag over her shoulder. "You're leaving," he said, sounding regretful and withdrawn, but not questioning.

Keegan nodded, swallowing hard against the lost expression in his brown eyes. "I have to hurry—there's only one more ferry and I have to catch it. I'm sorry, I really am, I just—I can't stay here—"

Ross shook his head as though to clear it, his bangs flapping, and continued to stare at her. "I was so afraid—" he started, then cut off and took a deep, shaky breath before starting again. "I was so afraid when I saw you go into the water. And I thought—if something happened it would be my fault, because I'd let you race."

"That's not true," Keegan protested, sounding a little shrill. "I was the one who shouldn't have asked, I was the one who entered, even though I know I'm scared of water."

Ross shook his head again, but this time he had a tiny smile on his lips. "Keegan," he said with strange gentleness. "It may have been stupid, but it was also brave. You were scared and you did it anyway, because you felt you had something to prove." Keegan flushed, and Hazel purred loudly in consensus.

"But I couldn't help thinking," Ross continued. "I thought that I'd never feel so frightened about something in my life. But then I remembered… I remembered what kind of a person you are. You're too different from your foster parents, Keegan, and I knew sooner or later something was going to give. I knew you were going to leave, only then I wouldn't be there to help you. Even if I didn't even do such a great job of it last time."

_Oh, Ross!_

Keegan threw herself forward and hugged him tightly around the neck. "Don't say that," she said fiercely, trying not to cry. "You were great. I really needed today to happen, and you were the best friend anyone could have. I'll miss you heaps." Ross embraced her back, and she stayed there as long as she dared, knowing that once they parted she'd be turning away from the last remnant of her life in Alto Mare. There'd be nothing else to hold her back.

But it was something she had to do.

Finally she pulled back and gave him a shaky grin. "We'll be okay," she promised. "Haze and Firefoot will look after me."

"_Bubui!"_ Hazel echoed in agreement, fluffing her tail proudly.

Ross just smiled fondly. "I know you will," he said simply, before giving her a slight push towards the railing. "Now get going, you have to hurry, remember?"

Keegan backed away towards the bit of sloping roof she'd used to move onto the balcony, giving a slight wave before she disappeared past the eaves, Hazel a moving shadow at her feet.

And then she was gone.

* * *

Simon waited patiently on Keegan's bed, leaning back against the wall with his head pillowed by his thick arms, staring absently at the ceiling. He knew that sooner or later Miriam would come in to try and apologise, to reconcile things, and he thought it was better that she wasn't faced with an empty room.

An hour and a half after Keegan had first left, not long before full night set in, he had heard the distant horn of the ferry as it departed. Something in his chest had clenched, both with hope that she'd made it before it went and a fear that he'd done the wrong thing.

Then he remembered the look in her eyes when he held out the key, like she'd been shut in a cell all her life and just been let out to see the sky; like a treasure box, locked for ages, had just been opened.

_She needed this._

When he heard tentative footsteps pause by the door, he was ready.

* * *

Miriam hesitated, one hand on the knob, debating the wisdom of entering so soon after their argument; but she hated disagreements, she couldn't stand the thought of being on the outs with someone she loved.

And besides, when she thought back on it, she was a little proud of the way Keegan had handled herself at first—she'd tried not to yell or interrupt, and she'd said what she felt, and what she said had some merit. But in the end it just wasn't enough, and she lost control, wasn't able to hold on to her temper… she just wasn't ready…

Cautiously Miriam knocked. "Keegan?" she called, opening the door slowly to give the fox a chance to reject her entrance, but there was no answer.

And so, for the second time that day, Miriam entered a room which was empty of the girl she'd raised as her own.

Dismayed, having definite flashbacks to that morning, Miriam surveyed the cramped, cluttered little area, eventually coming to a rest on Simon, sitting facing her on Keegan's rumpled bed.

Miriam's heart lurched. _What's going on?_

"Where—where's Keegan?" she asked, bewildered and apprehensive, and then even more so at the serious expression on Simon's face.

His answer was one that made her entire chest clench and her world go rocketing out of control.

"I let her go." he said simply.


	3. Myth and Shadow

**A/N:** _Should've had this up quite a few days ago... ah well, it's here now. Enjoy!_

_EDITED (29/09/08)_

* * *

** II **

**MYTH AND SHADOW**

Rocking.

Keegan closed her eyes and took a deep breath, huddling deeper into herself in an attempt at comfort. At her side, Firefoot whined and pawed at her hands, which were clutching one of her Pokémon Journal magazines so tightly that she was crinkling the page. "Right," the girl smiled shakily, turning her attention to the article she'd been reading aloud in an attempt to forget about the sway of the boat on the waves, the fact that beneath them, there was nothing but deep water.

_Oh God._

" 'It is said that Flannery favours strength and power over strategy,' " she read on hurriedly to force bad thoughts away. " 'A fact which she herself confesses to. 'I love using fire,' she admits. 'There's something beautiful about it. And besides, the hallmark move of the Lavaridge gym is Overheat; I guess you could say that I just like advertising my gym pride!' "

Keegan stopped to smile down at the eager growlithe, his thick orange fur tousled by the wind that swept down the bow of the ship. "Is that an attack you'd like to learn, Firefoot?"

The pup shook his head, making the white ruff beneath his chin waver. "Really?" Keegan asked, surprised. "I've heard it's pretty powerful. Is there another one you like better, then?"

"_Graalth,"_ Firefoot answered, blinking up at her dopily, and Keegan couldn't help but laugh. He acted so clueless, it never ceased to make her feel better.

"Hey, we're comin' up on the Whirl Islands!"

"_Eebui buu!"_

Hazel's call came almost at the same time as the boy's, sounding just as excited, and a second later the eevee came tearing across the deck, prancing impatiently around in front of her mistress.

Keegan laughed again. It wasn't often that Hazel acted so playful. "Okay, okay, I guess I can handle coming to see. Just don't get your hopes up."

"_Buu bui!"_ Hazel mewed, tugging at Keegan's sleeve as the girl got up a little unsteadily, her legs numbed with sitting down for so long.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Keegan stuffed the magazine back into her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder and wrapping her jacket around herself against the wind, resolutely not thinking about the wide expanse of ocean. _Come on, I've lived on a floating city, I'm used to seeing the sea._

_Just not with only a thin plating of steel between me and it…_

She reached the rail, gripping it tightly and shading her eyes from her fringe as it whipped around her forehead. "Where am I looking?" she asked anyone who was willing to answer.

"Over there!" A young boy with dark hair pointed happily, standing on the lower rails with his green shirt and shorts tugged by the breeze. Keegan looked and saw distant, rocky crags rising from the ocean, made hazy by spray and mist. "They're really small, but people still live there, all 'cept on these rocks we're about t'go past. They're on the lowest edge of the grouping," the boy explained confidently, his open face glowing with such animation that Keegan couldn't dwell on her fear for long and smiled at him.

"You know a lot about them."

He grinned back, showing a space between his teeth where he was missing one. "Me and my ma live in Cianwood, and we visit my cousins on the Islands," he said proudly. "We were just visiting my gran'parents in Alto Mare, so now we're going back home."

"_Grawlth, grawll!"_ Firefoot barked suddenly, squirming his head through the railings with his ears cocked forward towards the rocks.

"_Bui!"_ Hazel keened, echoing him, but her reaction was different; instead of standing up with interest, she hunkering down against Keegan's leg, seeming almost fearful.

_Huh?_

Keegan looked back towards the Islands, wondering what on Earth had gotten into them. They were closer, now, and under the grey clouds the waves battered relentlessly against the sharp cliffs, the shadows looking more menacing than they might have under a sunny sky.

One of them moved.

"What was that?" Keegan demanded, leaning forward as though it would help her see better, squinting against the spray and wind. Firefoot stood alert, ears up and tail fluffed out, and Hazel was riveted to the cliffs in a faint, fearful awe.

"I didn't see properly—" the boy began, but he was cut off by a long cry echoing out from the crags, sending a shiver down Keegan's spine. It resonated eerily, deep, full and melodious, and behind her Keegan heard some startled exclamations.

The silhouette they'd been watching rose up on long, slender wings, shadows sliding over glossy silver hide which could have been either feathers or fur, or both, a strange mixture of beast and bird.

Keegan drew in a sharp breath, heard the boy's reverent gasp beside her, but before they could get a proper glimpse the pokémon dived back into the ocean like an arrow, stray sunlight glinting off the rows of blue fins on its back. The spray rose and fell, pattering across the bay like fleeting raindrops.

"Did you see that?" the boy asked in a hushed, wondering voice, and Keegan nodded dumbly.

"That was—that was Lugia, wasn't it?"

"Yeah… we just saw a lugia…"

Excited chattering came from behind them, and Keegan turned slightly to see several of the other passengers speaking in animated rushes to each other, pointing towards the southern rim of the Whirl Islands.

"This is the best vacation ever," the boy said feverishly as he stared out at the rocks, his eyes glittering with unsuppressed joy, and Keegan had no answer but to follow his gaze in awed silence, Hazel's purr vibrating against her legs and Firefoot's ruff drifting on the quiet breeze.

* * *

_Oh, idiot idiot idiot!_ Keegan berated herself as she ran, her shoes pounding on the footpath and sides aching. When they made it into port she'd dawdled along the beach for a while, not feeling any hurry to get anywhere and still wanting to absorb the wonder of the afternoon. Before she knew it, it had started getting dark, and she didn't know whether the Pokémon Centre had a curfew or not.

Firefoot bounded at her heels, his bright orange fur like a beacon in the gloom, while overhead the streetlamps had already flickered on, soft in the twilight and casting shadows over the fronts of the buildings to either side. Hazel was already tucked securely inside her pokéball, but Firefoot knew what Pokémon Centres smelled like and Keegan was hoping he'd be able to lead her to it, seeing as the directions the boy that afternoon had given her were rambling at best.

They rounded a corner and Firefoot barked, but Keegan had already seen the glass-walled buildings, the huge 'P' over the sliding doors illuminated red and the main hall inside brightly lit. Keegan could see through the windows that there were still trainers lingering, gathered around the leafy pot plants in the centre, chatting on the comfortable benches arrayed the sides. "Oh, brilliant—"

The twin doors slid apart with a slight hiss as Keegan and Firefoot approached, both of them slowing to a walk on the threshold, the growlithe panting like an engine and the girl with one hand clamped to her aching side, her legs wobbly with fatigue. "Oooh, I need to sit down," she groaned, and Firefoot echoed her feeling with a huff of exhaustion, splaying down on his belly right in the middle of the entrance and wheezing exaggeratedly.

There was a giggle from the front desk, and both mistress and pokémon looked up to see the town's Nurse Joy shaking with laughter at their expressions, her twin looped pigtails quivering. "I'm sorry," she apologised through her hand, still looking amused. "Your growlithe just looked so funny."

"Yeah, he's a regular comedian," Keegan muttered with a grin, nudging him with her toe, and he huffed at her with wounded eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that," Keegan blew at him in response, making her fringe flutter, and bounced his pokéball down to return him in a flash of light.

"Hello, and welcome to the Pokémon Centre," Nurse Joy smiled, giving her a tiny wave. "I haven't seen you around before, so you must have just come in."

"Hi," Keegan lifted her hand in response, grinning sheepishly with her cheeks a bit red with embarrassment at her loud entrance. "And yes, I did, just this afternoon. From Alto Mare."

"Alto Mare," Joy repeated as she reached out to take the pokéballs Keegan had offered her, her eyebrows shooting upward. "You passed the Whirl Islands, then. Is it true you saw a lugia on your way past?"

_They _know_ about that already?_ Keegan was amazed. "It's true," the girl confirmed, unable to keep from beaming. She didn't notice when several trainers nearby stopped to listen avidly, nor that not far away in a corner, a burly, clean-shaven man with hard eyes and dark green hair paused, lowering the receiver at his ear thoughtfully.

"I'll call you back," he said at the screen and hung up, moving closer to the counter unnoticed.

"It was amazing," Keegan said, eyes sparkling. "We only caught it for a moment before it dived into the water, but the sound it made was almost like music."

"Where exactly did you see it?" the man interrupted, making Keegan jump and spin around, startled, one hand clutching automatically at her chest. His thick eyebrows overshadowed narrow, calculating eyes which blazed with triumph, making Keegan feel abruptly cold, her cheeks flushing when she realized how loud she'd been talking.

"Some— somewhere on the rocks," she stammered. "I don't know—I only knew where we saw it because someone told me—"

"But you weren't the only one," the man persisted, and Keegan shook her head wordlessly, unnerved. She was even more so when the man grinned. "Thanks, girl. You just saved me a long wait and a lotta research." And he turned away, hurrying out of the Pokémon Centre and into impending darkness.

"Um…" Keegan was left standing looking after him, face hot with embarrassment at a few of the envious looks one or two of the trainers were throwing her, feeling awkward and very much on display.

"I wonder if he's a Legendary hunter," Joy mused, setting Keegan's pokéballs into the broad device just behind the smooth counter. "Sounds as though he was expecting to be looking for a while."

"He was creepy," Keegan muttered, the afternoon's euphoria crashing to a halt on the realization that she hadn't liked the look in that man's eyes at all and wishing, not for the first time, that she'd learned to keep her mouth shut.

* * *

Keegan was wandering along the rocky seaside, the surf pounding against the breaker to her side and the wind making her ponytailed hair lash violently. For a moment she wished for the sandy beaches of Cianwood, before remembering that half of the sand had actually been rock, and besides, she didn't really mind clambering over boulders _that_ much.

She was in Olivine, having arrived that morning. At first glance the portside city seemed grim because of its hideously rocky shore, even though the grey clouds had cleared up some overnight; but once inside the land cleared into gentle grassy knolls on the road towards Ecruteak.

Keegan liked climbing, so when she got the chance she had checked out the shoreline which led right to the tall cliffs on the far east of the city. She was alone, for once, since Firefoot had received a barb in the nose after harrying a tentacool and Hazel had been curled up asleep on Keegan's borrowed bed when the girl impulsively decided to go for a walk.

A bit of solitude was nice; she felt bad putting the two in their pokéballs just so she could feel alone, and she'd spent so much time recently cooped up on ferries that she needed a bit of space.

There were several battles going on, made tricky by the uneven ground, and she'd even been challenged once. She freaked out at the mere thought of it until she'd realized she had the perfect excuse and declined, feeling guilty as the disappointed boy turned away.

By the time dark had begun to fall she had reached the cliffs and was beginning to feel chilled by the wind. _My hair is going to take forever to brush when I get back,_ she thought despondently as she turned around, hugging herself for warmth, her cheeks numbed.

It was only then that she saw it, so focused she'd been on picking her way without getting too wet or slipping. The rocks led inland right up to a thick wood of tangled trees and undergrowth, and towering over that was a half-finished construction. There was a road cutting through the foliage, overrun by weeds which suggested it had been a while since building had stopped.

Keegan hesitated, wondering what was in there and what it was, and cast a quick glance at the sky. It wasn't too dark yet, and she could always walk along the verge to make speed if it got too late—it wasn't nearly as rocky there.

Impulsively she decided, turning to walk up the dirt pathway, which she could now see was too thin to have been used for trucks. They probably came in another way.

It was a relief to be out of the constant wind; she hadn't realized how much it was beginning to annoy her. At least in Alto Mare the buildings served to break it up, taking off its edge unless you were on the city border.

She came to a tall wire fence, the gate padlocked, the construction sign still in fairly good shape but beginning to rust around the edges. After a bit of searching she found a hole in the fence, where the wire had come away from the bar, and managed to slip through with only a graze of metal across her shoulders and tugging in her hair.

After that Keegan just wandered, kicking up debris and crumbling bricks, dusty mortar billowing around her shoes and powdering her jeans white. Wild pokémon darted away into hiding whenever she came near, birds fluttering around the lofty struts, jutting silently up into the cloudy sky. Once she saw a murkrow nesting, looking down at her suspiciously as she passed beneath the pylon. There was even some equipment left: a crane with its winch still extended, the chain clinking gently in the eerie breeze, and various rusted tools littered the base of the partitions.

_Wonder what this place was going to be?_ Keegan mused, glancing up and around at part of what might have been a foyer, spacious and hollow with arching struts overhead, reaching across one side like giant claws. It all seemed so empty.

At least, it _was,_ before she heard the echo of a kicked stone and a very human curse, and automatically shrank behind a mostly-built—if skeletal—wall. If not for the stillness of the surroundings she might not have heard them at all, and it was well for her that she did, even as she wished she'd brought Hazel along after all.

A figure strolled out from behind the battered stretch of brick and steel, a man dressed in an enveloping black uniform, a dark cap low over his face, shading his eyes. His white gloves seemed almost incongruous with the rest of the uniform, and as he turned to something behind him—some_one,_ because Keegan could still hear a person swearing and it certainly wasn't him—she saw the letter 'R' emblazoned in dark red on the front.

She went cold. Anyone who wasn't living under a rock knew that symbol._ Team Rocket. Oh God, I'm in a bloody abandoned construction yard with _Team Rocket_—_

"Where do we put it?"

Keegan jumped at the abrupt, grumpy-sounding voice, her heart suddenly lodged in her throat and beating as fast as a yanma's wings, making her feel sick with nausea and find it difficult to breathe.

_Don't think about it—they don't know you're here, they can't know you're here, they'll do something—but if you panic much more you'll make a sound and they'll know—hide and seek and capture the flag, remember playing them with the others? You're good at hiding, good at not being found, because you can stay still, still like a rattata under a pidgeot's shadow—_

The first man was looking around, now, and she froze, averting her gaze so she could look at him only through the corner of her eyes—she remembered reading somewhere that predators could sense when they were being watched, and Team Rocket were nothing if not predators.

He shrugged. "Put it anywhere," he said impatiently. "They'll find it, no one comes here anyway except punk kids, and it's too cold for that."

Keegan watched covertly, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths, her knuckles white because she was gripping a steel bar so tightly, her legs rigid with tension and feet beginning to go numb from the uncomfortable crouch she was in.

"I don't get it," the younger-sounding man grumbled, following his partner into the girl's view, aside from a rogue pylon which reached across the top of the opening and half-obscured his upper body. "All this cloak and dagger stuff. Why can't we just pass it on face-to-face? This is a waste of time."

"Security," the other man said shortly, hands on hips, glancing around at the decrepit construction disinterestedly. For all his haste he didn't really seem to be in a hurry to find a hiding place for… whatever they had. "After the Lake of Rage incident, the Triad and the Elite Trio judged it best to keep all parts of an operation separate."

_Lake of Rage? What happened there?_ Keegan wondered, turning her head slightly to get a better view. She could almost pretend she was back in Alto Mare, watching from the rooftops as Firefoot tried to catch her scent or Ross and Wailmer patrolled a canal she needed to pass.

The younger agent shoved against a broken concrete block at his feet, crouching and stuffing a small bundle inside it.

"Took your time," the older man muttered belligerently, his arms crossed with impatience and irritation. "The ferry needs to leave in a few hours and _we_ need to get out of here before the pickup."

The second agent straightened, brushing off his dusty hands, and although Keegan couldn't see his face under the brim of his cap she could tell from his stiff movements that he was annoyed. "Then why didn't you do it," he snapped back. "And saved me the trouble of coming out here."

A snort was his reply. "That's what rookies like you are for. Let's go."

Keegan watched breathlessly as they turned and vanished back the way they'd come, but the girl didn't move. For long moments she just waited, completely frozen and neck aching, her heart fluttering in her chest with apprehension until she was absolutely sure they were gone.

It was only then that she peeked out, eyes scanning the now silent yard for a moment before alighting upon the innocent-looking block of concrete. _Capture the flag, 'anything goes' style._

The wry thought flitted through her head before she could stop it, because that's what it felt like: a rather different, somewhat more dangerous version of the game. Her curious, competitive nature surfaced, and before she stopped to think she scuttled like a nervy fox across the half-finished floor to the block, looking about one last time before pulling out the bundle. _Target achieved…_

The dark, nondescript drawstring bag was no bigger than her fist; it could have been dropped by anyone, used for anything. Swiftly, well aware of her place and the deepening twilight, she opened it up and shook out the contents, wrapped in a piece of soft cloth. Flipping aside leaves of fabric impatiently with the hand still gripping the bag, the object was revealed: a strange, faceted crystal.

Deep within its centre was a swirl of rainbow colours, but the outside surface was pure white. It was warm and seemed to vibrate slightly, almost humming. Keegan examined it closely, fascinated by the smoothness of the faces, the comforting weight in her palm. Like her pendant, it had a soothing charm to it. _Wonder what it is and what the Rockets want it for?_

But she'd lingered too long. Her ears caught the sound of the fence jingling and Keegan automatically shrank back into the shadows, darting carefully through the littered tower interior. Moving with restrained urgency, she was already through the fence and halfway back to Olivine's Pokémon Centre before she realized that, true to the form of the game, she still had her 'flag' clutched in her hand.

* * *

"Oh, what am I going to do?" Keegan gripped her hair with both hands and tugged fitfully at her bangs in frustration and dread, staring down at the crystalline object lying innocently on its nest of fabric in the middle of her borrowed bed. Hazel was examining the gem curiously, crouched on the blanket with her tail swishing this way and that, but Firefoot was just staring disapprovingly at his mistress, an effect offset by the bandage fixed securely over his nose.

Keegan caught his expression and stopped, looking back at him through her raised arms. "What?! I was trying not to panic and got… a little… carried away… when I was imagining I was playing a game. I didn't _mean_ to take it!"

With a depressed huff she slumped down on the mattress beside the crystal, making it bounce up and hit Hazel on the snout.

"_Bii!"_ Hazel bristled, her nose twitching furiously, and Keegan smiled wanly.

"Sorry." With a heavy sigh Firefoot padded up and licked her hand consolingly, whining gently, and Keegan absently petted him on the head, ruffling his orange fur. "I thought about taking it to the police station," she continued thinking aloud, her gaze turning to the darkness outside the Pokémon Centre, the window reflecting the light of the room and preventing her from seeing out. It made the bedroom seem contained, like a tiny little world all on its own where she was safe from black-clad figures.

She shivered. _On the other hand…_

"But then I thought, when they realize it's gone, they'll be watching in case someone turns it in," she finished miserably.

_And as soon as I do… shark bait._

"_Gralth,"_ Firefoot wuffed, leaping onto the bed, and Keegan threw her arms around him, burying her face in his fur at the same time that Hazel mewed and clambered onto her lap, purring with all her might.

For a few moments Keegan let herself pretend that she hadn't just had a run-in with a very infamous, very dangerous criminal organisation, that she was back in her room on Alto Mare where things like that just didn't happen, that she'd only had a fight with her foster parents and her pokémon were comforting her.

_But I don't want to be back there either. Not yet. I only just got away._

The girl drew back, slightly surprised to find a lump in her throat and her eyes burning. With a swipe at her face she set Hazel aside, picking the crystal up, wrapping it, dropping it back in its pouch and striding over to her bag near the dresser beneath the window to stow it in the very depths of her belongings. "There," she said with as much confidence as she could muster. "Now it's dealt with. We'll just take it with us and give it to someone we can trust, when we meet someone we can trust."

"_Buu,"_ Hazel purred, and the matter was settled.

For now.

* * *

About a week out from Olivine, Keegan discovered something.

She had a lousy sense of direction.

Her pokégear had an automatic mapping system on it, which was lucky because she hadn't really thought through what items she'd need beyond the things she already had in her room and so hadn't brought a map of her own. On the other hand, the screen was so small it made it difficult to make out the details, so she still got confused as to which direction she had to take.

At first the road had been broad and easy to follow, but not long after that she passed out of farming land and into forest, where there were fewer Pokémon Centres and no apparent camping sites.

Not that her first night of camping had been spectacularly pleasant anyway, since she didn't have a sleeping bag, pillow, or any kind of bedding aside from her blanket. Luckily she had the ability to sleep pretty much anywhere, even on the hard ground, but that wasn't the biggest problem.

It was the night sounds. She kept on thinking something would sneak up on her, or that she'd wake up to find a spinarak on her face, or discover a meowth had raided her bag. Finally she'd just let Firefoot out to stand guard, rationalising that at least he could sleep all day in his pokéball.

He hadn't seemed to mind, and she found it comforting to have his weight by her side, knowing she wasn't alone; so she'd started letting Hazel out too, even during the day. All they had was each other, so why shouldn't they spend time together?

Keegan found herself even gladder for their company when, somehow, she lost the trail. It was Firefoot who picked up the smell of a man passing by, a trainer himself who'd been camping out to look for meowth in the woods and was able to direct her to the nearest town.

Unfortunately it wasn't the first time it happened. There were three towns on the way to Ecruteak, and somehow she managed to lose her way to all of them.

The eeriest thing was that recently she kept hearing this strange humming, or chanting, or maybe both, but it never caught up to her. Though, sometimes she'd wake up to find it was because Firefoot had just loosed an Ember on some random pokémon, even if they were usually gone before she saw them.

_And, of course, I just can't catch a break,_ Keegan thought to herself disgustedly as she fought through one particularly dense bush with one hand, gripping her pokégear in the other and scowling at the monitor. She wasn't exactly sure how far from Ecruteak she was, but it couldn't be much more than a day or two.

_Gah, I'm going to seriously need some cleaning up after this… I don't know what the hell I was thinking!_

…_well, yes, I do. And…_

She smiled suddenly, looking down at the blipping marker which showed her position, being relayed by one of Silph's satellites.

…_and it's fun. It's boring, and it's hard, and it's uncomfortable sometimes, but I've never felt so free in my life. I don't have any time limits and no expectations, no worries…_

Her stomach gurgled.

…_except to make sure to buy enough food to last until I reach the next town…_

Okay, so there were lots of things she had to think about that she hadn't considered before she'd left Alto Mare, but the Joy in Cianwood had cottoned onto the fact she was new to travelling somehow—must be 'Joy intuition'—because the evening she'd gotten into town the nurse had taken her aside and calmly explained everything she needed to know, giving her a traveller's pocket-guide to take along in case she forgot something.

_That thing is probably that most important thing I _own_ right now._

_Wonder what Firefoot and Hazel would say if they heard that?_

Something rustled in the bushes and Keegan jumped. She whirled around, her heart leaping up to her mouth, unable to banish sudden images of black-uniformed men descending down on her, even two weeks after Olivine.

_Two weeks… already two weeks!_

Her instincts were changing, she saw, noting with a little bit of pride that her hand had flown automatically to Hazel's pokéball. Something shiny flashed in a beam of light forcing its way through the canopy, and a magnemite hovered out of the bushes. With a relieved sigh Keegan lowered her hand, reattaching the pokégear to her belt. She'd have to move carefully if she wanted to avoid angering the thing; she had the bruises to prove it was a good idea, though how the hell was she supposed to know that furret were that fast?

She'd been warned that the woods near Ecruteak on the road to Olivine were filled with the electric pokémon during the daytime, but for the most part she'd managed to avoid the deep woods and stayed near the river, which meant she'd seen more flesh-and-blood pokémon than the steel-types.

"_Maa…ne… miiie…"_ The magnemite's single eye was heavily lidded and the curving magnets at its sides drooped lazily, the pokémon swaying gently, floating low to the ground. On a human the posture might have meant intoxication; on a pokémon it just seemed… odd.

_But it means I might be able to get away easier._

Keegan took a cautious step back as the magnemite approached relentlessly, weaving unsteadily in a way that made Keegan revise her opinion. _Seems drunk to me… like Simon after a binge night._

She quickly decided she wanted no part in the matter of a drunken pokémon, and turned slightly so she could sidle away but still keep an eye on it.

Except she found that somehow more of them had gotten behind her, and they were acting in much the same way as the first, and some of them were sparking, and oh _God_ but this wasn't what she'd wanted when she'd wondered why she hadn't seen any until now.

Her stomach twisted at the sight of them all, more of them parting the bushes as they came nearer. _There are so many!_

She snatched up Firefoot's pokéball and released him, the fiery dog appearing prepped and ready for battle in a flash of red light. The magnemite just wove around him as though he were an obstacle like the trees and foliage.

For a moment Keegan stared, caught between humour at his baffled expression and trepidation at their numbers; then she jumped as she felt something brush against her, and looked down to find one of the gleaming pokémon pressed against her bag, eye closed blissfully. "Firefoot, a little help!" she yelped, shaking it off frantically and clutching her bag closer, beginning to feel oppressed.

_I think I was just lucky before, if this is how crowded it is in the woods!_

All at once she was awash with heat, yelping again as Firefoot's Ember swirled past her shoulder and flinching away. "Ow!" She banged her head on the hard round body of one of the pokémon, automatically swatting at it. "Firefoot, _please_ aim in another direction! Use Flamethrower to clear us a path!"

Firefoot wuffed an apology and for a moment Keegan felt guilty—she _had_ asked for help, and at least he'd just used Ember, but it was still too close and she was beginning to feel distinctly grumpy.

_At least they aren't actually attacking, _she thought irritably, throwing off one of the electric pokémon, which had been clinging to her bag, and ducking beneath another. _Or else I'd be extra crispy!_

_Oh God… that could actually happen… I could actually end up as a smoking shell…_

Yup, that was _definitely_ panic she was feeling now.

Fortunately it was then that Firefoot had managed to discern the best opening for escape. He opened his mouth wide, showing off his canines as fire roiled deep in his throat, setting loose a toned-down stream of blazing flames. It was still near enough to be uncomfortably hot, but the fire licking over the steel bodies of the magnemite seemed to jolt them to their senses—until Firefoot closed his jaws, swallowing the last of the Flamethrower before a tree or bush caught fire.

"Hurry!" Keegan seized the opportunity, dodging past a confused-looking pokémon—_what the? That's a mareep! What's that doing here?_—and fleeing through the momentary path swathed through the swarm of animals, the leaves and foliage charred and smoking, Firefoot loping after her.

Behind them, several bewildered magnemite (as well as a two voltorb, a pikachu and a blinking mareep) floated off, burns seared across their steel, fur and wool singed. The rest, their eyes once again drooping dopily, followed an unseen trail left by the girl.

Keegan jumped over a log, a stitch already growing in her side and her bag dragging at her shoulder. She could still hear the creepy chant of the magnemite behind her, interspersed with the occasional bleat, squeal or squeak from various other electric pokémon. At least now she knew what she'd been hearing as she travelled, and what Firefoot had been scaring off at night.

_Although I have to wonder if they deliberately waited until they could overwhelm me!_ she thought desperately, yanking her foot out of a raichu's grasp as it stumbled out of the bushes and reached for her ankle, looking totally wasted.

_No, they couldn't have… none of them are acting right!_

"What—the hell's—their problem?!" she gasped to Firefoot, just because she was confused as hell and wanted to share it. The growlithe let out something between a bark and a whine, completely unhelpful but unable to offer anything else when he was too focussed on running to speak.

Abruptly the woods ended and Keegan skidded to a halt at the edge of a low cliff, making dust billow. Her rubbery legs almost made her tumble, but at the last minute she managed to catch herself, though she was gasping too fast to actually take deep breaths and she could taste blood in the back of her throat from running too hard for too long. Down below, the woods were pressed to the side of the crag, and in the distance, looming over the forest, was the Tin Tower.

_Brilliant, we've found Ecruteak._ The 'little fox' noted calmly in some weird corner of her mind which could still focus on random things aside from the immediate problem.

"Oh great," Keegan groaned breathlessly, clutching at her side, wanting nothing more than to just collapse where she was. The cliff was little more than thirty feet tall, but by the time she'd climbed halfway down the magnemite were sure to be on her, and after that there was no way she'd be able to maintain her descent.

_Although it would get me away from the others—I didn't know so many different electric pokémon lived together so closely—_

"_Grrrralth,"_ Firefoot turned and set his paws resolutely, head lowered and fur bristling in preparation for a battle even though his flanks were heaving from the run.

"There's too many," Keegan choked out, scanning the cliff edge anxiously, fighting down that annoying, incipient panic. "They'll—they'll swamp you."

_Something to do, something to do, something to do—c'mon, there's _gotta_ be something—_

Firefoot snarled and Keegan spun about at the sound, stopping in shock and touching her pendant as though in prayer. The magnemite seemed to fill the air; she hadn't realized there were so many, not with all the undergrowth in the way. Everywhere she looked there was another, some with burns from Firefoot's previous attack, all with the same dopey look, though scattered among the wall of steel were occasional flashes of red or yellow or pink.

Keegan took a deep, shaky breath, knowing they had the type advantage but the magnemite had numbers. As long as they didn't attack outright she was sure she would be fine, and none of them seemed inclined to do that. "Alright," she said as calmly as she could manage, though her voice still quivered ever so slightly. Her face was pale, but when she remembered how terrified she'd been that evening, when she'd gone for a walk in an abandoned construction site and wandered right into something out of a crime film, she knew she could handle this.

Her mind was presenting facts in a steady litany to calm her down; they weren't attacking, they didn't want to, she didn't need to _defeat_ them, not all of them, just clear a path, and she could do that…

"Use Flame Wheel," Keegan ordered.

With a wuff and a snap of his jaws Firefoot leapt into a full run, his fur blazing and paws leaving a trail of fire behind him. The hot air around him crackled, the speed making it cone around him into a fiery shield. He ploughed through the magnemite, scattering them to either side. Some, their steel blackened by fire and eyes widening to show some glimmer of reasoning, vanished back into the trees.

But most ignored the attack, and continued to approach Keegan mindlessly.

At the edge of the woods Firefoot skidded into a sharp turn, launching himself towards them with twin puffs of dust from his paws as he charged back through, almost stepping on a pikachu as he went. The pokémon didn't even try to avoid him, hypnotised by something neither Keegan nor Firefoot could see or guess.

Bursting through the outer edge of the swarm, the growlithe slewed to a halt before Keegan with a billow of dust and chink of pebbles, snow-white tail and ruff fluttering in the air.

He couldn't see well, no growlithe could, but he could still smell metal and some fur and sparks of electric wool, could still smell his fire and his mistress' fear, her confusion. Her determination.

_Why are you acting like this?_ he wanted to bark, but he knew they wouldn't answer; he could smell it on them, could smell that there was something controlling them like that burning liquid humans liked to drink.

_source…_ they hummed, and to Firefoot's blurry vision the grey mass in front of them shifted, coming nearer. He snarled warningly, his fur still blazing with the remnants of his previous attack, even though he knew they wouldn't answer, feeling almost guilty that he had to attack them when they obviously had no idea what was happening.

_But if this one doesn't, they'll swarm the Mistress. And that is something this one cannot let happen._

It was then that the matter was taken completely out of his loyal paws.

A roar echoed through the woods, making Keegan jump and almost drop Hazel's pokéball, which she'd just raised to activate. Some_thing_ tore past her, so close that Keegan felt its weight in the passing and staggered, her shoes slipping on the gravel and making her fall with a hard blow that sparked pain in her elbows.

She looked up in time to see lightning swelling in a wave of crackling bolts through the wall of pokémon, the ground scored with deep furrows from the attack. Keegan flinched and one hand clenched automatically over the long, pearly-white scars which marked her other arm as some of it lashed out towards her with snaps of electricity, making her skin prickle with goosebumps and her hair frizz, her muscles jolting faintly once or twice though the static was absorbed into the rocky ground before dangerous levels reached her.

_Oh God, what the hell's going on…?_

Shaking, cringing with every dying crackle, Keegan recoiled from the scene, pressed against Firefoot's side as the growlithe took her weight protectively. Finally there was silence and Keegan dared to look up through her clinging bangs to see the magnemite picking themselves up dazedly and retreating into the trees, wavering uncertainly.

_They're… going? What happened?_

Then a snarl caught her attention, and Keegan just barely had time to move, just barely registered Firefoot's urgent push against her shoulder, before a bolt of lightning slammed down on the rock where she'd been. The ground crumbled in swells of dust, the earth shaking as a piece of the cliff dissolved into rubble.

Keegan grazed her elbows as she skidded to a halt on her side, confused, frightened, completely bewildered as she stared with a white face at the lithe, yellow-and-black striped pokémon that stood before her, sparks of electricity flashed over and around the dark thundercloud on its back.

"Wha— what—" she stammered, and the pokémon snarled furiously, its mask-like visage making it seem even more terrifying, its red eyes narrowed with anger at some unknown slight. With a thunderous bark it leapt at her, but Keegan was moving without any notion of actually ordering her body to do so, legs pumping to send her scrabbling across broken and seared ground.

In the same instant Firefoot howled wrathfully, launching himself at the beast and slamming into it with enough force to make it stumble as it landed. The growlithe pup rebounded off wiry muscles, landing sprawled in the dust near Keegan. Scuttling closer as he shook his head dazedly, Keegan lifted his pokéball, intending to return him and _run_, because the beast had regained its balance and was looking back towards her.

Instead she automatically flinched away as Firefoot, eyes blazing, leapt for her. His fangs grazed red lines on her throat, knocking her over as he tore the firestone pendant from her neck, the chain snapping with only a mark to show for its presence.

White light rippled over his matted fur, unseen bruises engulfed in the thickening of his orange coat, and a magnificent snowy-white mane swelled over his head and shoulders. Keegan rolled to her side and watched, stunned and astonished, as white tufts flared back from his growing paws. Then the light faded, revealing a fiery dog whose size and majesty rivalled that of the beast arrayed before him.

Firefoot lowered his head, fur bristling, and growled as the now dim pendant slipped from his mouth and dropped to the ground with a chink. The beast ducked its head in something like respect or acknowledgement but snarled a warning back, the cloud sparking fitfully in preparation for an attack.

Keegan just had time to grab her pendant before Firefoot's jaws closed on her arm, urgently drawing her up and making her stumble back with an insistent toss of his head. Keegan grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, hands burying in thick orange fur and half falling on him when her balance failed.

And then suddenly they were moving, the wind almost knocked out of her as Firefoot abruptly darted to the side, dodging a thunderbolt that blistered the ground where they'd been. When they landed again Keegan was almost floored as her feet hit ground, but now she knew what he wanted and just managed to get a leg half over his back as he jumped clear of the beast's flashing, full-bodied attack, the yellow-and-black pokémon skidding to a halt with a growl.

Keegan nearly fell off again as they stopped, but then she managed to catch her balance and position herself properly. The instant Firefoot felt her weight he was gone, turning tail and hurtling into the woods, avoiding a snap of powerful jaws that caught only air, his paws thudding on the ground and muscles working, trees streaking past as they fled.


	4. The Facts Unseen

**A/N:** _Woah, I'm sorry. This has been finished ages ago and actually posted on another site, but I've been busy and forgot to post it here. N'ways. Here it is. Please forgive me._

_EDITED (29/09/08)_

* * *

** III **

**THE FACTS UNSEEN**

Keegan ached.

Her face was chilled by the night air, her legs hurt from being clasped around Firefoot's belly and the chafing of her jeans, her hands were stiff from clutching his mane and her butt felt like it was made of lead. She was exhausted, she was hungry, and right then and there she would have kissed Miriam's feet if she could just use her old bed for a night.

_Getting hit by electricity always makes people feel tired,_ she thought wearily, her mind rambling to different topics because she was just too far gone to concentrate. Electricity was just one of the subjects she'd gone over—twice—in God-knows-how-long. _I wasn't hit, exactly, but I was damned… damned close quite a few times there._

The mere thought of it made her stomach want to rebel, so she swallowed hard and leaned over Firefoot's back, half trying to keep a grip on herself and half wishing the arcanine's constant, flowing movement wasn't keeping her from sleeping.

Well, technically it wasn't, except she knew she'd fall off if she fell asleep, since she'd never ridden an arcanine before and Firefoot had never carried someone, so neither of them would be able to keep her balance.

It was a testament to how tired she was that she hadn't even noticed they'd entered Ecruteak until Firefoot stopped in front of the Pokémon Centre's sliding glass doors, almost making her fall anyway from the unexpected halt. For a moment she stared at the darkened windows, but then Firefoot gave her a little jolt and she slid off his back with a groan at her aching muscles and the burning in her thighs, feeling bowlegged and unsteady on the unmoving ground.

After their confrontation with that lightning pokémon Firefoot had headed straight for the city without stopping, even though it was further away than the Tin Tower seemed to suggest and by the time they got there—Keegan checked her pokégear clock blearily—it was 3:30am in the morning. Which meant she'd been riding for the better part of thirteen hours. No wonder her butt was sore.

But Keegan, once her mind had caught up on the events and she'd managed to stop shaking long enough to think straight, hadn't wanted to risk staying the night in the woods with that… thing… around, so she wasn't going to complain. Much. There was also the fact that Firefoot hadn't shown any inclination at stopping—despite the fact that he was now panting like a steam engine—so he must've known something she didn't and agreed it would be a bad idea.

For the moment she put aside the question of _why_ the hell the pokémon had attacked her straight after saving her, and focussed only on getting to a nice, warm bed in a nice, safe room.

Although, she _did_ feel guilty for waking Nurse Joy up at this hour, but when she saw the lights flicker on inside the timber-built Centre and the pink-haired woman coming to answer her hammering, Keegan couldn't help feeling a surge of sweet and utter relief.

"Wha—" Joy started, stifling a yawn, as the doors slid open, and then her eyes widened as she caught sight of Keegan. "My goodness!" she exclaimed, stepping out of the way to let Keegan stumble inside, Firefoot nearby in case she needed to lean on him.

_I must really look a mess,_ Keegan thought with strange bemusement as Nurse Joy tugged her gently towards one of the orange-cushioned couches, gesturing to a sleepy-eyed chansey who had just emerged from the back room with her nurse's cap askew.

"What _happened?_" Joy asked anxiously, sitting Keegan down and snatching up a folded cloth that another of the round pink pokémon had just held out to her, pressing it to Keegan's arm. It was only then that the girl realized she'd scraped herself on a rock somewhere, leaving a long red graze almost from her elbow to her shoulder.

"Got mobbed by pokémon," Keegan answered slightly dazedly, absently scratching Firefoot's huge head when he tried to climb onto the couch with her, whining encouragingly.

"Must have been a lot of pokémon!" Joy commented sympathetically.

For some strange reason Keegan found that incredibly funny. She started laughing and couldn't stop, even though the sound grew hysterical within moments and soon turned to tears. "Shock," Joy murmured to herself, steadying the girl as she was wracked with giggles, struggling to breathe.

Keegan wasn't aware of much after that. All she really knew is that somehow she'd been cleaned up, her injuries tended to, Firefoot was at some point returned to his pokéball and then taken for a rest, and she was firmly led up the stairs and to a spare room where she sank down into a completely exhausted sleep hardly before her head had hit the pillow.

* * *

Keegan stood at the base of the cobblestone steps, staring up the path towards the many-tiered Tin Tower, half obscured by the tall wooden blockade around it aside from the open, canopied gates at the height of the stairs. The path and fence were surrounded on all sides by lofty trees, obstructing her view of Ecruteak, and the clear sky was already beginning to dim slightly.

_Latias, but the night comes in quickly in these parts._

It was early evening, more than a week after Keegan had gotten into the city. Although Keegan was a fairly active girl, there was only so much she could take before she just wanted to lie in bed for the rest of her life. She thought it had been bad for the first week of her journey when her feet and legs burned every time she moved, unused to the constant exertion of walking; this was so much worse.

The ride had left her inner thighs chafed to bleeding point, although she hadn't realised it until the morning (or rather, afternoon) after when she peeled off her pyjama pants and almost torn off one of the bandages when it got stuck to the material. It had been humiliating to realise that Nurse Joy had taken care of her while she was out of it—it had taken her two days to stop blushing every time she saw the woman—but it was probably better than being awake for it.

Not that she'd escaped from that fate either. Nurse Joy had come up to check on her and promptly given her a stern talking to about riding for so long when she was so inexperienced. Then she'd sat her down, helped her change the bandages, given her a crash course on what was in a first-aid kit (as well as recommending a store from which to buy one) and confined her to the Pokémon Centre for at least four days.

Keegan had felt too horrible to complain, although her heart clenched with excitement every time she remembered that she was in _Ecruteak,_ that she was where she wanted to be, and that here was a man who might just be able to tell her something about how she'd come to be in Alto Mare in the first place.

On the other hand, it had also given her plenty of time to think about the strange lightning pokémon who had attacked her. In the aftermath, she knew that incident had been even more frightening than that night in the construction yard.

She could truly have died. It had _wanted_ her to die.

And that scared her, more than anything, made her feel panicky, until she resorted to simply pushing the memory away and trying to pretend it didn't exist.

By the time she felt well enough to get up and around, she was so jittery that she just wanted to talk to Morty and get _out_ of the city, the city so close to where that thing had been.

So she'd decided to take a walk around town to test her muscles, but also to get the chain of her pendant repaired and buy a treat for Firefoot for his evolution. She hadn't wanted to get a first-aid kit at first, simply because it was a reminder of how stupid she was, but the storekeeper had been helpful and she had reluctantly purchased a small portable bag which she'd been able to clip to her belt until she got back to the Centre.

After that she had headed for the gym, but when she found it, it was to discover that Morty wasn't there. One of the students told her he was often at the Tin Tower, an area sacred to Ecruteak, and by then Keegan was so wound up that she decided she'd go check it out anyway. She wanted—_needed—_to do something, and it felt soothing to be wandering around an old-world city such as Ecruteak, so filled with timber buildings, with such beautiful architecture.

And more… there were _people_ around, wandering in marketplaces, around houses, on the footpaths and working in gardens. She felt safe out in the open, in the daylight, where there were others around—like no pokémon would dare touch her there, nor any black-uniformed men waiting to steal back what she had taken.

All that meant that hours had passed, which meant it was getting later and Morty probably wouldn't help her out anyway, at least not until morning. Still, Keegan didn't want to go back to the Pokémon Centre just yet. She'd just found the way to the Tin Tower, maybe she could look around a bit first? She needed something to lift her spirits, so if she couldn't find Morty, maybe a bit of exploring would do.

_It looks so old… and the view at the top is probably amazing!_

She needed a distraction right now.

So she gathered herself, walking cautiously up the steps, her ponytailed hair caught by the slight breeze that sailed through the forest avenue. When she reached the top there was no one around the small courtyard before the entrance, and no one answered when she called. She approached the high wooden doors and opened them guardedly, peeking into a large room with a smooth wooden floor and absolutely no decorations whatsoever.

Or at least that's what she thought until she saw the quartet of brass bells, tethered with red cord to an ornate metal frame in each corner. Still, they were the only things the room boasted, aside from broad windows and a staircase opposite the entrance. So that's where Keegan went, following the consecutives steps up, taking deep breaths of the musty, wood-scented air, rubbing the smooth, polished timber of the rail. Each room was the same, with bare wooden walls and the huge, shining bells, and vaguely she hoped that the pinnacle would be slightly different.

When she did find a room that differed from the others, it wasn't by much and it wasn't the highest point; there was still one last staircase.

The room was as empty as the others but instead of brass bells they were silver. For a moment Keegan stared at them, wondering whether they were real silver or not, and when she touched one gently she was slightly surprised to find the smooth metal cool in the warmth of the Tower.

Then she heard soft, near-inaudible footsteps and, heart lurching guiltily, whirled around just in time to catch someone coming down the staircase.

They saw each other at virtually the same time. The first expression to pass over the young man's features was surprise, while the first thing to go through Keegan's mind was appreciation, taking in his appearance in a second: medium height, slender, with sky-blue eyes and a sculpted face.

It was only a moment. Then both of them recovered and Keegan opened her mouth to apologise or explain, her cheeks pink with embarrassment at being caught out where she wasn't sure she was meant to be by someone she definitely would have preferred to view from afar to avoid making a fool of herself—especially considering that she was wearing her ratty track pants and still looked like someone had taken a stick to her.

She hadn't even managed to say anything, however, before his eyes flashed angrily behind the lock of brown hair falling across his face and a pokéball was in his hand, gleaming in the rays of the setting sun through the slitted windows.

"Who are you?" he demanded aggressively, moving down the stairs with a billow of the white cape over his shoulders, the pokéball expanded between his fingers.

_Nice to look at, but damn he's intimidating—_

"I'm Keegan, I was just looking for the gym leader and one of the students said he might be up here," the girl blurted out hurriedly, backing away from his piercing glare and barely keeping herself from responding by going for her own pokémon. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"Morty's not here," the young man said shortly, still eyeing her suspiciously, fingering his pokéball. "And neither should you be. This is private property."

"I'm sorry," Keegan said quickly, her cheeks flushing with guilty embarrassment at the chastisement. "I just—there was no one at the gates, and no one answered when I called, so I thought—"

"Then you thought wrong," the young man interrupted, but to Keegan's relief he minimized the pokéball and tucked it back away somewhere into his purple suit.

And that was when Keegan's mind kicked into overdrive and her own suspicion dawned. _Okay, so now I know that _I'm_ not meant to be here, but what about _him_?_ "What are _you_ doing here, anyway?" she dared cautiously, inwardly wincing at her unintentionally accusing tone.

"My name is Eusine, not 'you', and _I_ happen to have permission," the stranger snapped irritably, briefly brushing the lock of hair out of his eyes. "But that's a distinction _you_ don't."

_Well so-rry!_ "It's not my fault!" Keegan flared at his dismissive tone. "No one ever said anything about this being private property!"

Eusine stared, and Keegan flushed deeper. _Oh boy, there you go, making an idiot of yourself again…_

"It's surrounded by walls and trees on all sides!" he said finally, sounding disbelieving. "What else _could_ it be?"

_Oh._ Keegan fell silent, practically feeling her cheeks burn hot enough to fry an egg. "I didn't think of that," she said in a small voice, staring down at her scuffed shoes as he looked at her incredulously.

"You see a building surrounded by walls and it doesn't occur to you that it might be _private?_ What kind of a girl are you?"

Keegan was just wondering that herself, though she'd never really thought about walls before. Obviously she'd never consider running rampant in someone's house without permission, but a place like this or the Alto Mare library, in the open, a place that everyone pretty much knows and no one seems to explicitly _own,_ a public location, how could she ever consider that going there might be trespassing?

"But how do I know that you really do have permission?" she tried again, more quietly and less belligerently without looking at him. Her face was quite hot enough, thank you.

"You don't," was the simple, stern answer.

She glanced up through her bangs, shuffling uncomfortably, to see him tapping his gloved fingers impatiently on his crossed arms. "Well, then—"

He sighed in exasperation. "Do you _always_ question authority or am I just the lucky one?"

Keegan flinched, hearing echoes of Pete and Miriam's words in her head, and smiled a little sheepishly. "Um, always, pretty much. I just—I'd leave, but how do I know you're really meant to be here?"

He looked at her again, with those piercing eyes which Keegan felt like were looking right through her, and her cheeks went red again. _At least this time he doesn't look angry,_ she thought, shifting uneasily and chewing her lip. On the contrary; it was like he was studying her, so instead she began to feel like she was under glass. What was worse was the fact that she couldn't read him at all, so she had no idea what he was thinking.

"I'll go down with you," he said finally. "And I happen to know where Morty is, so I'll take you to him. That way you'll know I'm what I say I am, and you won't have a reason to go wandering where you're not supposed to. Done?"

Keegan blinked, momentarily surprised at his offer and the fact that his tone had softened to something that was almost friendliness, before realizing exactly what he'd said. Her eyes widened and she grinned broadly. "Really? Thanks!"

"Good," Eusine said briskly. "But you'd better hurry up, because I've still got research to do up here and Morty only gave me today to do it."

"Oh." Keegan followed as he moved to the stairs downward, casting a single, curious glance at the way up before the floor rose around her and obscured her view. She turned back to the front, struggling to keep up while hiding the burn of her still-sore muscles. "What're you researching?"

Eusine looked at her with the same measuring expression that he had before as they passed through the next floor, the slitted windowsills tinted gold by the impending sunset. "Legendaries," he admitted at last. "I'm looking for one of the Legendaries. Ecruteak is the seat of Johto's myths and legends, so I come here to do my research. Now as for you," And though his tone was calculating he had, to her relief, looked away, because it was damn hard not to feel put on the spot when someone as handsome as he was staring at you, especially with that intense gaze of his. "Why are you after Morty? You don't look like a particularly strong trainer, so it can't be a battle."

"I'm not," Keegan confessed, finally giving in to jogging a bit so she could keep up with his quick, long-legged stride. She winced as her legs complained, drawing her attention from his almost derisively amused tone at the thought of someone challenging the gym leader. "I read that he can see things from far away. I came to see if he could help me find someone." She wouldn't normally have explained that much, because the subject was very personal to her, but he _was_ helping her and, as they said, turnabout was fair play.

"I see." was all the answer she received, but instead of making her feel relieved it just made her wonder what he was thinking.

After that they walked in silence, Keegan feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious. She had absolutely no idea what to say and he seemed so deep in thought that she didn't want to disturb him. Instead she bore the situation stoically, even though she'd always hated the quiet when there were other people around to talk to, and instead focussed on what she planned to do afterward, depending on what Morty was able to tell her.

So when her companion abruptly stopped, throwing out a hand which she almost banged into, she jumped with surprise. "Wha—" she began, but he shushed her, his gaze not focussed on anything in particular as though he was listening to something.

_Apparently he wasn't as out of it as I thought._ Keegan's chest clenched with apprehension and she took a deep breath to ease it, closing her eyes to do the same.

It took a moment before she heard anything, but when she did her eyes flew open and she tensed, her lips drawn tightly shut as though to retract any sound she might make, spoken or not.

There was someone down there—several someones—and judging by Eusine's reaction they weren't supposed to be there either.

He already had a pokéball ready and expanded, and after only a second's hesitation Keegan did the same, picking Firefoot's pokéball out and clutching it with an unsteady hand. _This is a game,_ she told herself firmly before fear could get too deep a grip on her, briefly touching her pendant for luck. _Last man standing. The only difference is that we're allowed to use pokémon, and we even played it like that sometimes, to up the teams._

So with another deep breath she followed after her companion's flicking white cape, absently impressed with the quiet of his footsteps. _Well, if he's a Legendary hunter…_

"Is there a sign at the front of the Tower which says 'anyone can come in and enjoy themselves', or is this just my unlucky day?"

_You've got to be kidding._ Keegan only just managed to keep herself from putting her head in her hands, stopping short at the height of the steps not far behind Eusine. _Giving them warning is a _bad_ idea, idiot!_

The darkly clad trio in the next room whirled around in surprise at his abrupt, irritable voice, all of them diving for their pokéballs with a speed that suggested special training. Keegan swore she heard Eusine mutter, "Well that answers that question," as he called out his pokémon, only a beat or two ahead of the intruders.

A female alakazam materialized on the bottom step, the dark brown armour on her forearms, torso and knees seeming to absorb what light still came through the windows. Barely a moment later she was faced with an oval-bodied azumarill, its ears cocked and eyes hard, but the alakazam had already raised her spoons. With a sweeping gesture of the silver utensils the blue-and-white pokémon was sent flying back into the orange-haired woman that was its trainer hardly before its feet had touched floor.

Both of them hit the wall and tumbled to the ground with twin thuds, gasping for breath, but before Alakazam could do the same to the others a second pokémon was deposited on the floor, red shell gleaming in the fading light and eyes glaring at Alakazam from beneath the shadow of a yellow star-shaped crest.

_Oh shit—crawdaunt are part dark— _Keegan's stomach lurched with recognition and she darted as far as she could down the steps, shoving past a surprised Eusine as Alakazam narrowed her gaze, her eyes flashing a bright, cerulean blue, and gestured once at the crab-like pokémon with a spoon. For a second the crawdaunt shone the same colour; then the aura was dispelled with an almost audible snap, leaving no effect whatsoever.

"_Ahlaa?"_ Alakazam's eyes widened in horror, but before Crawdaunt could retaliate it was knocked aside by a muscular, bright orange-and-black figure.

With a toss of his white-maned head Firefoot drove the crawdaunt back across the room, the crab's trainer jumping aside to avoid it, almost tripping, and the water pokémon trying desperately using its stubby back legs to halt its skid before it crashed back into the azumarill which had just staggered to its feet.

"A fire pokémon," the third intruder spat in disgust as he lifted a pokéball of his own, his brown hair peeking out from beneath a navy-coloured bandanna with a strange white emblem imprinted on the front.

_What is that?_ Keegan managed to wonder.

"Bubblebeam!" the woman snarled angrily, crouched by the wall and clutching her shoulder where she'd landed badly.

"_Zurii!"_ Azumarill pounced on Crawdaunt's tall head, firing a rapid stream of bubbles not towards Firefoot or Alakazam, but up at Eusine and Keegan, unprotected on the stairs.

Without thinking Keegan slipped through the rails, where she'd been crouching to drop Firefoot's pokéball down the side of the stairs, and let herself fall, hitting the floor hard as the bubbles exploded against the wooden entrance to the next floor. _Ow…_ Keegan staggered to her feet, her knees wobbly from the shock of the landing and her heart pounding down low in her ribs with adrenaline, her thoughts scattered on the wind of instinctive action. She looked up with enough time to see a second Bubblebeam headed off by a Lightscreen from Alakazam, each blow causing the transparent surface of the barrier to fizz.

"Thundershock!" Keegan heard Eusine shout, and felt a surge of relief that he was all right a second before she realized what he'd said.

_Oh God, he's got to be kidding!_

He wasn't. With an undignified yelp Keegan ducked beneath the stairs, her hair already frizzing up from the static, having definite flashbacks to the day before. Lightning crackled overhead, aimed for the crawdaunt as the azumarill skittered thoughtlessly out of the way.

There was a flash of red, the light forming into a shapeless figure in front of Crawdaunt a second before the lightning hit.

And then dispersed, revealing a slimy blob of a pokémon, its blue fur slick and expression untroubled.

_Quagsire,_ Keegan recognised though the slats, for much the same reason she had the crawdaunt—Alto Mare being on the border between Johto and Hoenn, and a city of water to boot, she knew pretty much every pokémon of that type through sheer osmosis.

But that knowledge didn't help her much now, except to feel a mixture of dread and relief. Electrical attacks would be useless as long as the intruders had a ground-type to absorb them, but that meant that Eusine wasn't likely to try to use electricity again, right?

_But we can't use our best attacks for fear of damaging the Tower, either!_ she realized, stomach clenching with the thought that those damned electric attacks were probably their best bet.

"_Arrcth!"_ The familiar howl interrupted her thoughts, ringing throughout the close-aired chamber, and Keegan's heart jumped.

_Firefoot!_

The stairs shuddered as the arcanine bounced off them in a splash of water, landing sprawled to the other side, and Keegan scrambled beneath the steps to check on him, hurriedly squeezing out as much of his sodden fur as she could. Growing up on Alto Mare meant he was a little more resistant to the liquid than was usual for a fire pokémon, but still…

_We can't go on like this. Electric attacks are the best chance we've got, although if we could just get rid of the crawdaunt instead… either way…_ "See if you can get rid of the quagsire," she said through gritted teeth as the arcanine staggered back up, shaking himself slightly and looking bedraggled. "We need those lightning attacks to get through!"

Firefoot's ears twitched in agreement; then, a second later, his head jerked slightly to the side in response to a command Keegan didn't hear properly. Abruptly he jumped towards her, knocking her aside in time to avoid a shadowy pincer as it pounded the floor, leaving cracks in the wood. "Take Down," Keegan gasped blindly, her elbows smarting from where she'd landed on them and unable to see past Firefoot's bulk and the stairs.

"_Arrcnnn,"_ Firefoot snarled and was gone, giving Keegan a chance to lever herself up and see what the hell was happening.

She caught Firefoot's full-bodied collision with the quagsire, throwing them both to the side just in time to evade the crackling Thundershock which scorched the crawdaunt's gleaming shell.

She saw Alakazam's spoons whirl in her hands, directing a rainbow-coloured shaft of energy towards the azumarill, sending the blue-and-white pokémon cartwheeling across floor. It crashed into the still-dazed and sparking crawdaunt, both of them tumbling back to land in a heap of stubby limbs and pincers.

Firefoot skidded to a halt, having just barely managed to land on his feet after being thrown by the supple quagsire, his body heaving with pants.

For a split second there was a lull as the intruders' pokémon tried to recover themselves, Keegan's mind racing for what to do next, praying she didn't clash with Eusine's orders.

Then there was a roar of breath-stealing wind and some_thing_ blew itself up the stairs to Keegan's left, something encircled by eerie, swirling red and yellow lights which made her eyes hurt, humming a high, steady note which made it difficult to think.

_What's going on?_

She suddenly felt so _alone,_ and it was so dark, so hard to see anything aside from the scarlet-tinged globes. There were enemies around, she could feel them—

Something thudded beside her and Keegan flinched away, her heart suddenly pounding with terror, but before she could escape she was wrenched around, pulled away from the fascinating dance of circles and against something warm and breathing.

"Don't look at it," someone breathed sharply in her ear when she tried instinctively to struggle, and a hand came down over her eyes. "It's Confuse Ray!"

_Confuse Ray. A more effective form of Supersonic. It's dangerous because it can make your pokémon turn on you unintentionally…_

_What? When did I read that?_

Keegan's mind cleared and she went still, finding her hand gripping someone's sleeve, leaning against their chest, turned away from the buzz and panicked shouts she could hear somewhere out in the middle of the room. Her arms prickled with goosebumps when the pitch faltered for a second before turning up even higher, making her ears ache and a chill run down her spine. "Hypnosis," Eusine's voice sounded somewhere not far overhead, and that was when Keegan realized that he was the one holding her.

She didn't need to see to know her face had just gone as red as Firefoot's fur.

Her heart lurched. "Firefoot!" she gasped, automatically trying to pull away. For a moment a startled Eusine resisted; then the humming stopped and there were multiple thuds as bodies hit the floor.

Keegan was up the instant Eusine let her go, but her knees buckled and she staggered, her vision swirling with the pound of a head-rush as she caught herself on the side of the stairs.

"Eusine, everything all right?" an unfamiliar voice asked calmly over several sets of footfalls as she blinked rapidly to get rid of the white burn of dizziness in front of her eyes.

"Just peachy," Eusine answered, and a part of Keegan laughed at his grumpy tone.

_I guess he just ran out of time for his research._

Keegan's vision finally cleared enough for her to see, but the first thing in sight was a purple-bodied gengar, floating over the unconscious bodies of the intruders with a wide, red-eyed grin. Keegan shuddered and turned away to find Firefoot sprawled on the other side of the stairs, his ribs rising and falling steadily in sleep, and she returned him, relieved that he seemed to be okay.

"Who is this?" someone asked, their sharp tone catching Keegan's attention, and the girl spun around to look at the newcomers.

One of them had longish yellow hair, held back by a blue headband, and half-lidded eyes which made him look somehow laidback, as though nothing could faze him. _Morty,_ she identified him instantly, feeling her stomach drop to her knees. _Great, he's not gonna want to help me at _all_ now he knows I was trespassing._

Three more were monks, clad in brown robes and of varying sizes and ages. One of them was scowling at her suspiciously under thick eyebrows which contrasted with his thin face, so she guessed that he was the one who'd asked the question.

The final member of the party was Officer Jenny, her blue hair tucked securely under her cap as she moved around the room to place the intruders' pokémon back in their pokéballs and take details, her keen eyes studying the area as Gengar followed with leering interest.

"A customer," Eusine said briskly and with a hint of dryness. "You'd better tell the students not to send people up here looking for you, Morty."

"Sorry," Keegan apologised quickly, abashed. "I didn't mean to."

Eusine snorted but thankfully didn't say anything, not about that anyway, and his continued explanation turned attention away from her. At least, until Officer Jenny looked up at her a few moments later, one hand tapping a pencil against the notebook she had in her hand. "So you just walked up and into the Tower?" the woman asked with something between suspicion and disapproval.

"There was no one in the courtyard," Keegan said nervously, sliding down the stairwell's post to sit on the bottom slat. "And I called to make sure, so I could ask, but no one answered."

"We were all in the shrine-house in the back at the time," Morty said grimly, as much to Officer Jenny as to Keegan. "We got a warning note this afternoon saying that someone was going to steal some of the artefacts the monks keep back there."

"There's nothing really of value in the Tower itself except the bells," Eusine added, throwing Morty a frown to show that he didn't appreciate being kept out of the loop. "And they're of value more for historical reasons, so they'd be useless to sell. There'd be no reason to come in here. Or not much of one, at any rate."

"Obviously those guys disagree," Keegan murmured with a vague wave at the uniformed intruders, letting her head drop tiredly against the rail. Now that the battle was over she was beginning to feel a little tired again, as well as on edge because of all the surprises and sore because at some point she'd stretched the graze on her arm to the point of weeping. _I wonder if Eusine would have found them if I hadn't disturbed him?_

"Well, they don't have any ID," Jenny was muttering almost to herself, examining the three compact hang-gliders resting in the corner. "Except this." She held out a scrap of black material to them, imprinted with the same emblem that had been on the intruders' bandannas, only this time in blue. In the centre was a circle, while at the bottom were two short lines, with a third at the top, making it look vaguely like an 'A'.

Keegan shrugged her ignorance when the policewoman looked at her in query. "Can I go?" she asked in a small voice while she had Jenny's attention as Morty took the cloth, fingering it absently and studying the symbol.

"No," Officer Jenny told her sternly. "I need to get a statement from you."

_Bugger,_ Keegan thought, disappointed. She really, _really_ wanted some alone-time to talk to Hazel, to make sure Firefoot was okay, and just be able to keep out of big occurrences in general. _Is it always like this, or am I just the lucky one?_

In the end she and Eusine went off with Jenny to the police station first, leaving Morty and the monks to look over the Tower and keep watch over the intruders until Jenny could send in some people to pick them up. It took a couple of hours for Jenny to speak to them both to her satisfaction, during which Keegan got tired of telling the same short story over and over again, all the while wishing she was gone.

Or that it was morning, either way, because just before they'd left Morty had told her to meet him at the gym the next day so he could give her a reading. The thought that she was so _close_ made her heart flare with hope and her mind resign to the fact that she probably wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

She turned out to be right. She made it back to the Pokémon Centre in plenty of time before curfew, giving her a chance to make plans with Hazel. Or it would have, if the eevee hadn't been so put out that she didn't get in on the action that evening that she kept on turning away whenever Keegan tried to speak to her.

But despite the fact that she slept badly Keegan was true to her nature and arose early, while the horizon was still green with the dawn. Ecruteak was just waking up by the time she got out of the Centre, bidding Nurse Joy a decently cheerful farewell as she went with all her possessions in hand and pokémon cleared for battle, but as she reached the timber-built gym her steps slowed with uncertainty.

_He's probably not awake yet,_ she realized with dismay. _I always get up earlier than Haze and Firefoot, and even Miriam sometimes._

A second later she grimaced, feeling a pang of guilt that she hadn't thought about her foster mother in ages and wondering briefly how she was doing. _I hope she never finds out about the whole… um, getting attacked thing. She'd kill me._

…_bad thoughts._ She forced her mind away from them and refocussed on the gym in front of her. _Well, at least I can check…_ Cautiously Keegan tested the heavy doors, peeking in when they proved to be unlocked. All she saw was a dim, wide-spaced arena, with timber bleachers set at the walls to either side, flanked by the same slitted windows that the Tower had possessed.

"Well, are you going in or not?" a familiar voice snapped from behind her, and Keegan jumped, her heart rebounding off her ribs and leaping up to her throat as she whirled around.

"Don't _do_ that!" she gasped, clutching at her chest and shuddering. _God, for a moment there I thought— _"And besides, weren't you the one telling me about walls and private property?"

"And weren't you the one ignoring them?" Eusine asked, raising one slender eyebrow and looking faintly amused before pushing past and entering himself, the blonde-haired girl trailing guiltily in his wake. "Morty!" the caped young man called stridently as he moved across the tamped dirt of the arena towards a shadowed doorway Keegan could now make out at the opposite end of the room.

A second later Morty came through the entrance, flipping aside the dark cloth which draped in front of the door, his blue-and-yellow shirt looking bright in the gloom. "Early riser?" he asked with a slight grin, and Keegan smiled back sheepishly.

"Sorry," she offered, but Morty just waved a hand in dismissal and got straight to the point.

"Eusine said you wanted some help in finding someone. Can you give me a description? Or do you have something they once owned?"

"Um…" Keegan fingered her pendant and shifted uncomfortably, wondering how much she should say. "I—I don't know what they look like, or what their name is, or… well, _anything._" She swallowed hard, steeling herself to say aloud something her family rarely did, partly out of sympathy for her plight and partly because half the time it seemed like a dream that she actually had the condition. "You see, I—I have amnesia. I can't remember anything from before I was ten years old, and I've lived with foster parents since then."

Eusine's eyebrows shot skyward in surprise, but Morty just nodded in thoughtful understanding, and Keegan let out a shaky breath, her legs feeling unsteady. _Damn, but I haven't said that out loud in far too long._ "Um, my pendant," She tugged on the dimmed firestone, fumbling with the chain to take it off. "It's one of the only things I had on me when I was found, so…" she drifted off as she held it out uncertainly, feeling strangely vulnerable when Morty accepted it.

"Before I do anything," The gym leader looked at her seriously, the pendant's chain draping over his fist. "I should warn you that since it's been so long since you received this, I might not be able to See much. And if I do, it might not be to your liking. Too much might have changed."

Unable to speak through her suddenly dry mouth, Keegan just nodded, hugging herself around the waist and feeling unexpectedly chilled despite the light jacket she wore. _I didn't think he might not be able to see anything…_

Reassured she understood, Morty pressed the index and middle fingers of his right hand firmly to his forehead and closed his eyes, gripping the pendant tightly. After a moment Keegan felt a slight prickle, similar to when Alakazam had been using Psychic or Gengar had used Hypnosis, only on a much lower scale. "Your arcanine used this to evolve itself," the gym leader observed idly, not really seeming to expect a reply, though the girl nodded again anyway, her gaze riveted to him tensely.

Skilfully Morty expanded the scope of his vision, searching for someone he knew could well be too far away even for him to see. Or simply not exist anymore.

And then… flashes.

—_a man with red hair, tall and dignified, dressed in crimson and black—_

_Or is that grey?_ Morty wondered, relaying this out loud. "But I can't see his face, there's too much shadow…"

It was more than that; the image was flickering, unstable, like the distance between them was simply too great. _Probably in another region, then; most of Johto is within my Sight._

A second later the emotion hit him, and he almost gasped out loud. The depth of this man's passion was incredible, and as clear as the image was hazy. There wasn't much interpretation needed with a feeling as apparent as _that_. "He's the one who gave this pendant to you… and it was given with a great deal of love."

_Come on, give me a little more than that…_ He strained himself as far as he could, making his temples throb slightly with the effort, but he was sure there was something else to find and he hated to leave the girl with so little, considering he was probably her only lead.

The vision changed slightly, the background shifting from obscure shadow into sputtering flames set against the roaring crash of surf.

"There's fire behind him, but there's water too."

Keegan couldn't restrain a sigh upon hearing that. _Fire and water. Fire and water. Why is everything fire and water? Damn ocean._

Morty was silent for a few moments longer before opening his eyes with a rapid blink, lowering his hand. "That's it. I'm afraid this man is too far for me to see anything detailed, so he's probably in another region. But judging by what I felt… I'd say it's a good bet he's your father."

Keegan's eyes blurred unexpectedly as she accepted the pendant back, her chest clenching tightly with the lump in her throat, and she had to take a deep breath, and then another, to keep from breaking down right then and there. _My father. I had—I _have_ a father, and he loved me, and he gave me my pendant._

"Thanks," she managed to whisper, brushing distractedly at her eyes even as her cheeks went pink with embarrassment at being seen like this. "But I— I'm not sure where to start looking—"

"Fire and water sound like pretty good leads to me," Eusine said with apparent disinterest, looking away and examining the arena like a referee just before an important match. "There are fire and water gyms in both Kanto and Hoenn. Maybe he's in one of those places."

Feeling a swell of gratitude towards the young man for his discretion, Keegan took another deep breath, managing to swallow down the obstruction, forcing back tears. _At least until I get somewhere _private_._ "I suppose those are as good as any place to start."

"I'd suggest you make the fire gyms a priority," Eusine added with a slight tilt of his shoulders, as though to acknowledge her comment. "Considering that he was wearing red. Mono-type trainers often like to dress the part."

"It'd be easiest to go to Kanto first from here," Morty suggested, absently rubbing his temple with one hand while ignoring Eusine's ironic tone and the shift eyes in his direction, an indication of a discussion that Keegan hadn't been part of. "It's nearer, for one. Plus you can take the Magnet Train from Goldenrod right into Saffron, and then a ferry to Slateport from Vermillion. Otherwise it's a lot more running around."

_And a lot more time on the sea,_ Keegan thought with an inward grimace. It sounded like she'd be on ferries for the rest of her life at the rate she was going.

To distract herself from that unwelcome thought she reached into her bag, looking for her wallet. "Um, I heard that you do readings for a living, so… how much do I owe you?"

Looking slightly surprised and but not ungrateful, Morty named his price and waited patiently as Keegan pawed through her bag, muttering curses under her breath. She finally found her purse in one of the side pockets, nestled in amongst the wad of cash Simon had given her, perhaps half of which she still had. Meals at the Pokémon Centre were cheaper for trainers, boarding was free, and she'd been sleeping outside a lot. Most of what was gone she'd used to pay for the ticket to Olivine.

"Finally," she muttered to herself as she took out the notes to get at her purse, stuffing them back into the pocket a second later.

She looked up to find both Morty and Eusine staring at her. "Uh…"

"You carry around that much plain _cash?_" Eusine demanded incredulously, and Keegan felt her face heat up.

"It was a present," she protested. "And I don't have a bank account. How else am I supposed to pay for things?"

"Usually that's what parents of any kind are for," Morty said dryly.

_Yeah… 'usually' being the operative word there._

"Well…" Keegan ducked her head and shuffled her feet, plucking timidly at the loose threads on the edges of her purse. "I kind of… ran away from home."

Eusine snorted and she twitched, glancing up at him. "You have pokégear, don't you?" he asked in a tone of voice which suggested he was talking to a child.

Keegan stared blankly. "So?"

Once again, Eusine looked at her as though she were mad, the same way he had the night before when asking her if she didn't consider walled off areas to be private property. "Didn't anyone explain to you how it _works?_"

"I was… kind of in a hurry at the time," Keegan protested. "And my uncle wasn't exactly supposed to be giving it to me."

Eusine sighed. "Pokémon training," the purple-suited young man began long-sufferingly, completely ignoring Morty, who allowed his friend to explain with an amused twist of his lips. "Is considered a casual profession. Trainers who have no other source of income are given a small allowance by the Pokémon Association. Don't tell me you don't have the payment card for your pokégear."

_The what?_ Keegan blinked. She remembered rifling through the pokégear's instructions and reading about the cards. Simon had given her one each of the map and radio cards, but they had been the only ones there.

Apparently her confusion showed on her face, because, to her mortification, Eusine closed his eyes and slapped his forehead with a disbelieving groan as a grin crawled across Morty's face, the gym leader's shoulders beginning to shake with silent laughter.

"Nurse Joy in Cianwood sat me down to explain all that stuff," Keegan objected, flushing, as a still-chuckling Morty turned around and strode back towards the door he'd initially arrived through. "If there was such a thing, how come she didn't mention it?" She left note of the fact that Joy _had_ asked if Keegan already knew how to use her pokégear, which the girl had thought she did, so they hadn't really covered that.

"She probably assumed you already _had_ it," Eusine said with great exasperation. "_Usually_ when trainers start travelling they have their finances worked out _first._"

"I didn't know, how was I meant to have known?" Keegan complained, but despite herself she could feel a grin tugging at her lips. Morty's laughter was infectious. "And I couldn't exactly go up and _ask_ my foster parents to lend me money, I had to sneak out on them before they'd let me go anywhere!"

Eusine shook his head and lifted his eyes upward as though to say 'spare me'. "Just listen, I don't want to have to explain this twice. With the payment card you get a certain amount of money a week, usually enough for the more basic supplies. If you leave it go, it accumulates. The card is your credit ID, so don't ever lose it, otherwise you won't be able to withdraw anything, and for your account to be activated you need to take it to a Pokémon Centre, so do that as soon as you can."

"Gotcha," Keegan muttered, peeling away the amount she knew she owed Morty from inside her purse as the gym leader reappeared with a flick of the dark curtain. Upon his approach, still looking deeply amused, he held out a thin card the same shape and size as the ones Keegan had found already inserted into the pokégear when she got it.

She swapped him for his fee, not feeling nearly as embarrassed as she thought she would. "Do I need to pay you for that as well?" she asked wryly, but Morty just shook his head with a laugh.

"Just explain where you got it and Nurse Joy will credit you to your account," he told her. "Most Pokémon Centres and gyms carry a few of them for emergencies—you'd be surprised at how many new trainers forget how important money is. Right, Eusine?"

Slyly he looked sidelong at his friend, and Eusine spluttered indignantly. "I got my card on time!"

"Yes, from my sensei," Morty said dryly. "A month after you first left home."

_A month! At least I haven't been gone for _quite _that long yet!_ Keegan covered her mouth with one hand to hide her smile, her shoulders shaking in an imitation of Morty a few moments ago as Eusine protested.

So it was that the girl left the gym with a stitch from trying to stifle her laughter, leaving behind two good-naturedly arguing friends and feeling more light-hearted than she had in the nearly four weeks since she'd first left Alto Mare.


	5. She's Got the Powder

**A/N: **_Sorry it's a little late, the site didn't want to save any changes I made to the document and then I forgot about it._

_EDITED (29/09/08)_

* * *

** IV **

**SHE'S GOT THE POWDER**

Lilycove.

Lying on the eastern coast of Hoenn, set against the expansive ocean, the green-tinged city was beginning to dim. The sprawling complex of the Hoenn TV headquarters was a bustling hive of regulated chaos, as it was nearing the end of the day and there was still far too much to be done.

Although, for the broadcast team's chief, few them actually had anything to do with his news reports.

In his cluttered office on the upper storey of the whitewashed building, Archie watched a recently recorded report with narrowed eyes, one hand bracing his bearded chin. The recording was about the recently instated Petalburg gym leader, but Archie was barely paying attention; his position as the chief of the station was borne of necessity, not interest.

He had far greater things on his mind.

Like how well his people were doing in getting the information he wanted. One of his teams hadn't reported in for several days, now, and he was getting ready to dismiss the mission as a write-off.

That's when one of his phones rang; not one from an employee down below, but his blue one. The one which he never let anyone touch. The one which could herald either success or disaster, and in this case, he was expecting the latter. They were late, too late, and setbacks were usually the reason.

Muting the report, Archie answered the phone, eyes flickering automatically to glance out the soundproof window looking down on the main hall below, where most of the station's editing and broadcasting was done. His office was situated in the perfect position to overlook it all, although not necessarily for the reasons his employees generally thought.

"_Sir, you should turn to the Interregional Channel Two,"_ a scratchy voice suggested on the other end of the line without identifying himself or activating the vidscreen. It didn't matter. Only three people could contact Archie using the blue phone, and they never did that unless it was important.

Instantly the burly man did as the other had suggested, the screen flickering as it changed to show a close-up shot of a short-haired reporter with glasses, standing in front of a timber-built police station.

"…_despite complications, have been recaptured,"_ the reporter was saying seriously, her glasses winking in the daylight of the area she was in. Behind her, Officer Jenny pulled up on her motorcycle with a screech, hurrying into the broad-fronted station. _"However, all evidence pertaining to their intentions and their background was destroyed in the attempted escape. It is now believed that they have accomplices elsewhere who may also have been involved with their plans for the Tin Tower, though investigations are still being conducted into these new—"_ Archie shut off the television, having heard enough, and the screen blipped into a single dot, quickly fading into matte black.

"So they failed," Archie snorted, his deep voice instinctively low despite the soundproof room.

"_We haven't managed to get in contact with them, either,"_ the hoarse-voiced man on the other side of the phone line said with cautious frustration. _"But from what's been reported, it sounds like their diversion failed. They were captured by the gym leader himself."_

"The gym leader they say has 'eyes for a thousand miles'," Archie's voice had a definite cool tone to it now, but not angry or punishing. Not yet.

"_Yes sir,"_ the other sounded contrite. _"But there's been no hint that he's figured out anything important."_

"There wouldn't be. Yet. And the others?"

"_So far there seems to be little opposition,"_ his subordinate answered quickly, since Archie seemed to be forgiving about the involvement of a dangerously psychic Elite. _"They caught a break; it was sighted not far from where they're based. The Tin Tower may just have been bad luck."_

Irritably Archie tapped at the disorganised surface of his wide desk with the remote control, not seeming to notice or care when one stack of papers slipped over onto the rest with a whisper. He was too busy considering his options.

"Bad luck or not, I'm not willing to give up on this operation just yet," he said finally. "But we can't afford to send in anyone else—it'll just have to wait until Matts is finished. Tell him to continue as planned, then move on to Ecruteak."

"_And our agents in custody?"_ the other man asked carefully, and Archie shrugged his powerful shoulders, even knowing there was no one there to see.

"If Matts has the time and manpower, he can retrieve them. If not, they can stay there." His voice was cold, unyielding; every single one of his agents knew that he didn't take failure, for whatever reason, kindly.

"_Yes, sir."_ There was a click as the subordinate hung up, and Archie lowered the phone, frowning thoughtfully.

_This may be more difficult than I anticipated,_ he reflected, before shunting the matter from his mind and turning the television back on. It was nearly time for the six o'clock broadcast…

* * *

_Ooh… legs hurt… legs hurt…_

_Stop complaining. It could be worse._

…_yes, yes it could._

With a sigh at her internal monologue Keegan straightened up a little, ignoring the slight burn in her calves and her bag dragging at her shoulder. She didn't feel nearly as bad as when she'd gotten into Ecruteak, but she still had to wonder if it was downhill all the way to Goldenrod. The Joy at the last Pokémon Centre she'd visited had mentioned the city was within a day's walk, but because of the incline it seemed like so much longer. She had to admit that she felt a little vulnerable out in the woods, not least because of the lightning pokémon she was still imagining didn't exist, but also because of the news report that had come on a few days ago.

She'd been staying at a Pokémon Centre at the time or else she probably would've missed it completely, and she still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it. It had been about the intruders from the Tin Tower, reporting their attempted escape and subsequent recapture. In Ecruteak Keegan hadn't even thought about the public consequences of being involved—after all, the trio been jailed and she'd told Officer Jenny everything she knew, so she hadn't really considered the fact the story might get to the media—but she was still slightly surprised when the report said only that Morty had captured them while they were in the Tower, leaving out all mention of her and with hardly a brief mention of Eusine.

For a moment she'd felt slighted and a little disappointed; then the report had mentioned the new suspicions of accomplices and she quickly decided that anonymity was probably best. _I guess Morty managed to get something big out of that rag, if they wanted to cut me out of it—they even did the same to Eusine._

So now she was plagued with worries and vague, half-remembered dreams about random, blue-uniformed people running around, bearing the white A-shaped symbol, alongside the black-uniformed ones bearing the red 'R'.

_And I thought my life on Alto Mare had been complicated!_

With a sigh Keegan paused beneath a tree, running a hand through her sweaty fringe and hefting her bag up on her shoulder. The woods surrounding her were thinner than around Ecruteak and the trees often surrendered to hard, rocky ground, littered with weeds and grass, which meant she could see a lot further into the distance. Unfortunately there was absolutely nothing to see except for more sparse vegetation and the occasional pokémon, quickly vanished into some hidey-hole or other as she passed.

She was just debating whether or not to sit down for a while when she heard a weak, wavering hiss. _What was that?_ Keegan turned sharply about, making a yellow-fleshed weedle on a tree nearby cock its head at her, but all she heard was the sound of rushing water.

For a moment. A second later there was a harsh chittering, strident in the scrubby woods, and Keegan hesitated only briefly before following, curiosity overcoming caution.

She came to a rippling stream and followed it until the trees parted to reveal the scene of a distant battle. An elegant vaporeon was backed against a natural monument of rocks, its blue fur slick with the blood of a thousand tiny cuts and the fin around its neck torn and ragged.

_Looks in bad shape…_ Keegan saw with a lurch as she struggled to push her way through the thick undergrowth lining that section of the bank, shivering at the way the red contrasted with blue.

She saw the pokémon try to dart past its foe—a spindly-legged ariados—and into the safety of the water. It wasn't quick enough before the spider shot a small, sharp thread from its mouth, catching the water-fox on the paw and pinning it to the ground. With a jerk and a pain-filled cry that made Keegan flinch the vaporeon slung about, its injured paw stretched out as it lay on its side. Its flanks were heaving and its black eyes were glazed not just with pain, but with some kind of illness, unable to move aside from spasmodic shivers as the ariados reared back with snapping mandibles.

_Finally!_ Keegan burst through the scrub, Hazel's pokéball already in her hand, thrown a second later. The red-and-white sphere sailed through the air to hit the ariados squarely on its small head, bouncing to the matted turf before it. Dazed, the spider didn't have time to react when the eevee bounded out of her vessel with a yowl and tackled it, sending it skidding back.

Swiftly it recovered, clicking angrily as it fired a thread of fine silk towards Hazel, but the eevee darted to the side and the String Shot hit the rocks uselessly. "Quick Attack!" Keegan shouted, and Hazel had barely touched the ground before she flashed across the clearing, striking the ariados squarely on its bulbous red abdomen. The spider pokémon tumbled back as Hazel landed defensively on soft paws in front of the now wheezing vaporeon, her ears laid back to show she was serious.

The ariados hesitated, mandibles moving uncertainly; then it seemed to decide a battle was too much trouble and retreated, skittering easily over the forest's debris.

_Thank God. I think I hate battling. _Keegan let out a breath, hurrying towards the pair of fox-like pokémon, Hazel crouching anxiously over the other's paw. The girl could see now that the vaporeon was male, and he had _definitely _come down with something serious, but as she approached, slinging her bag off her back, the wild pokémon's eyes slitted open.

For a moment he seemed only to stare at her unseeingly, his breathing fast and shallow, but when she plucked the barb from his paw he flinched.

"_Eebui,"_ Hazel mewed fretfully as the water-fox coughed, struggling to get to his feet and staggering, flanks heaving and injured paw looking as though it were swathed in red silk, red silk which dripped to stain the scrubby ground. His fin-like ears drooped, the darker blue markings on his head a sickly shade of grey, and for a moment Keegan panicked, wondering what the hell she should do.

A second later she could have kicked herself, grabbing a spare pokéball from her belt and expanding it with the intention of capturing the poor thing so she could take him to a Pokémon Centre.

She never got the chance. As soon as he heard the soft whoosh of the ball the vaporeon's head snapped up, his body turned instinctively low to the ground, and he snarled warningly, showing small, sharp fangs.

Keegan flinched at his expression, pulling back in a sudden fear that he'd jump her despite his injuries, but before he could do anything Hazel had bounded between them, eyes wide with earnestness.

_You need help, cousin of the lake,_ she mewed, her ears back with worry and her paws beating the ground in a dance of unease. She could smell this cousin's sickness, like a dark taint hanging over him; it made her want to retch and wash herself, but she refused to shame him like that.

The vaporeon took a faltering step towards the stream, tail dragging on the mulch-strewn grass, and Hazel twitched for a moment, barely keeping herself from blocking him. _Please let him trust me,_ she prayed silently to any and all Guardians who were listening.

_Bairn knows it, _he answered shortly, his voice weak and wavering with sickness, and Hazel twitched again in faint surprise at his self-effacing manner, even though she had almost been expecting it with the way he was acting. It wasn't quite on the ultra-humble level that growlithe and arcanine usually referred to themselves, but it was clear he was not an alpha. _Brother will help. He'll be back soon._

_This Brother is alpha,_ Hazel realized, though she could tell from his connotation that it was far more than just being pack; this 'Brother' was a litter-mate. _They're very close._ For a moment uncertainty writhed through Hazel's mind, uncertainty that she was doing the right thing by trying to convince this cousin to come with them.

_But if he left—_

She cut that unworthy thought off before she could complete it. Litter-mates were often separated, true, but if they were ever able to stay together as pack they would _never_ desert each other.

And yet she saw the way Bairn waned, the way his head dipped and almond-shaped eyes dulled. _That may be too late, cousin,_ she whispered, creeping nearer, her thick tail swishing behind her with indecision.

The vaporeon just looked at her, his legs braced apart to take his weight, the darker blue markings on his head looking grey with illness. _Brother is the protector,_ he repeated stubbornly, but she saw in his half-slitted eyes a haze of desperation and loneliness.

_More than that human of yours is, that much is almost certain, little cousin of the wilderness._

_What? _Hazel stiffened and hissed, her fur bristling to show her indignation at both the slight against the Mistress and the belittling subtext.

The vaporeon just wearily rumbled what passed for a laugh. _Bairn prays for your sake she's not like the human he once knew._

_She's not,_ Hazel said sternly, puffing herself up as much as she could to take on an air of authority, her ears tilted forward in utter confidence of her words. _She'll help. She'll take care of you, cousin, for your litter-mate may not arrive in time._

But he didn't seem to even be listening anymore, and with the way he spoke next it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of the truth of his own words. _The only one who helps Bairn is Brother. He'll be back soon with a cure. He promised he'd protect Bairn… he promised…_ A shudder ran through his light frame, and with another quick whiff Hazel knew they'd run out of time.

She just barely managed to get beside him before he started to topple, his sudden weight making her stagger as she braced herself against him and turned her head to look pleadingly to look up at the Mistress.

The blonde-haired human instantly raised the Bonding Orb she held, tossing it towards Hazel's cousin of the lake. She felt him shift slightly, seeing it come, but knew he could do nothing to escape it. _It doesn't hurt,_ she whispered just before his presence vanished into the light, and the Orb fell to the ground. It rocked for a moment before locking down, and Hazel's ears twitched with both guilt and relief at the sound, knowing that he was safe in there until he could be taken care of but feeling shame that they had to steal him away from his litter-mate. _You'll be all right, cousin of the lake,_ she promised him with a touch of her dainty paw on the Orb's warm surface, just before the Mistress picked it up.

"Come on," Keegan said grimly to the distressed-looking eevee, trying to soften her voice as much as she could as she held out the pokémon's pokéball. For a moment Hazel just looked up at her with troubled eyes; then she allowed herself to be returned in a flash, enabling Keegan to scramble to her feet and haul up her bag, running out of the shaded clearing.

Many minutes later, a dark, nimble umbreon trotted onto the turf, leaving a rustle of bushes behind him and holding his head high against the weight of the green Lum berry in his mouth. It was that which forced him to take a moment to realize that something was wrong, since all he could taste was strange array of flavours from the fruit.

It was only when his sharp eyes caught sight of the liquid gleaming over the mulch, a slightly darker grey than everything around it, that he knew.

And it was the instant he dropped the berry, its tingling flavour still coating his tongue, that he tasted it.

A human.

With a deep, building rumble in his throat, the yellow rings on his body beginning to glow angrily, he darted out of the clearing and into the sparse trees, leaving the berry behind on sodden grass, its hard skin splattered by red.

* * *

Anxiously Keegan paced the shiny floor of the Pokémon Centre's lobby, casting reflections on the high glass windows. It was already getting dark, the outside lit by streetlights, but she could still see people passing up and down the wide boulevard next to the Centre.

_God, I hope the poor little guy's all right,_ she thought, her gaze drawn time and again back to the double doors just up from the counter, its red emergency sign lit behind a white silhouette of a needle. The vaporeon had been in such bad shape when she got him, and Hazel had looked as concerned as Keegan had ever seen her.

"_Chaanssi!"_

Surprised, Keegan jumped slightly at the nearby sound, turning just as one of the pink, balloon-like chansey bounced up to her, offering her the pokéballs containing Hazel and Firefoot.

"Oh… thanks," the girl smiled down at the happy-go-lucky pokémon, taking the pokéballs, and it skipped off to attend to a group of trainers that were just entering the Centre.

_Kinda scary, how happy those things always are,_ Keegan thought wryly, watching the rubbery chansey for a few moments as it collected up the trainers' pokémon. She remembered when she was younger and she'd first gone into the Alto Mare Pokémon Centre; she hadn't been able to understand how the chansey nurses there were always so upbeat. It had annoyed her more than it should have, because that had been a time when everyone around her was a stranger and she couldn't remember anything about her past; she had felt that nothing had the right to be that happy when she was missing a part of herself.

The sign over the blue doors finally dinged off, and Keegan's heart leapt to her mouth as she spun around in time to see Nurse Joy exiting the room. Joy smiled reassuringly and Keegan breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing. _Oh, that has to be good news._

"Vaporeon was quite ill," the pink-haired woman told her, clasping her hands in front of her apron. "And with his injuries, it was just as well you came here so quickly; but after a night in our emergency ward, he'll be fine."

"Oh, that's great," Keegan sat down wearily on the orange-cushioned bench nearby. She'd run most of the way to Goldenrod, and now that the anxiety had worn off she was feeling quietly exhausted.

"There was something I wanted to speak to you about, though," Joy added, taking a seat on the other end of the couch and giving a gesture to Chansey across the room, signalling that she'd be a while yet.

Keegan's stomach lurched apprehensively, though she had no idea what there was to be apprehensive about. _Damn, but I'm getting paranoid._ "Um, yes?" she asked a little timidly, and partly to her relief Joy laughed.

"Don't look so scared; you're not in trouble or anything. It's just that Vaporeon…" she hesitated a little, her blue eyes darkening. "Well, I think he might have been abandoned. He reacted to me quite like he was, if in a milder form than most do."

"Abandoned?" Keegan repeated blankly, for a moment completely unable to grasp the concept. "Why would… anyone… that's horrible!"

Joy nodded an agreement to the girl's outburst, her mouth twisted with slight anger. "He didn't seem as suspicious as a lot of pokémon become, though, and from the looks of it, it was quite a while ago that it happened. I think if he had a good trainer, he could learn to trust humans again. I know you said you only caught him because he needed treatment, but you _are_ the one who found him, so I was hoping you might be willing to take him with you."

Keegan sat back to think about this, biting her lip uncertainly. She had never really considered this journey as one to capture pokémon; the only reason she'd bought some spare pokéballs in Ecruteak was as a safety measure. But then again, it's not like she already had a full team, and after planning to spend so much time away from Alto Mare… well, the more then merrier, right?

_But I'm not the only one travelling around here._ She lifted Firefoot and Hazel's pokéballs up to her face, both of the miniaturised pokémon visible through the semi-transparent red surface. "What do you guys think?" she asked hesitantly. "D'you want another travelling companion?"

Firefoot's pokéball instantly rocked an agreement on her palm, his paws up on the inside surface and tongue lolling happily.

Hazel was the one who hesitated, her tail swishing around her and ears flicking with nervous tension; but a second later she also swayed the ball in concurrence, and Keegan looked up to Nurse Joy. "I guess that's a yes."

Joy smiled. "In that case, Vaporeon will be waiting for you when you come down tomorrow morning."

"Okay. Thanks," Keegan waved a little goodbye, stifling a yawn and a groan as she got up, rubbing her sore legs, and retreated to one of the trainers' rooms for a comfortable night in dreamland.

* * *

When Keegan came downstairs the next morning it was at her usual time, meaning that the spacious lobby was mostly empty aside from those trainers who liked to get a good start on things. Nurse Joy was already at the counter, her white cap sitting atop her pink hair, and waved her over as soon as she'd appeared at the base of the wide stairwell.

"Vaporeon's well and ready to go," she said with a smile, holding out the water fox's pokéball. Keegan accepted it gingerly, looking down at the eeveelution inside, who looked happy enough, if wary and doubtful.

With a deep breath and an inward shrug, Keegan shrank the pokéball and added it to her belt. "Thanks, Nurse Joy." The girl waved goodbye and strolled out of the Centre, raising a hand against the bright morning sun.

For a while Keegan wandered down the boulevard, looking for a good place to stop and have breakfast. Most of the stores were just opening, so the cafes were fairly empty, which was just the way Keegan liked it; on the other hand, few of them seemed to be types to allow pokémon to eat as well.

Finally she just settled for buying herself a salad roll at a deli (Miriam had made a point of eating healthy) and eating it at a tiny park nearby, filling the pokémon's dishes with the food she'd replenished just that morning.

Once Firefoot and Hazel were settled in—Firefoot was using the larger, orange bowl she'd gotten him in Ecruteak, since he was such a greedy guts once he'd evolved that he'd have eaten everything in the smaller one before Hazel could get a sniff at it—Keegan lifted the vaporeon's pokéball and somewhat apprehensively released him onto the thick turf.

Hazel watched with the same apprehension, tail swishing wildly around her brown haunches, ignoring the soft pellets that Firefoot was already digging into with gusto. She hadn't been certain it was a good idea to take the vaporeon from his litter-mate, but when she remembered that look in his eyes—as though he had remembered something he longed for, dreamed for, something so long suppressed—she felt that, perhaps, it would be what he wanted.

As soon as her newest pack-mate materialized in that familiar flash of red light, Hazel mewed a greeting, one ear flickering nervously.

The vaporeon looked around with wary confusion. _What is Bairn here for, cousin of the wilderness?_ he asked in perplexity, and Hazel saw that when his eyes lit upon the readied food he just looked even more bewildered. _Does your Mistress wish Bairn to battle?_

Hazel felt a pang. He really didn't understand what was going on; didn't his old human ever let him out for food?

_Probably not. He probably only got fed by the healing-mothers._

_It's time to eat, cousin of the lake,_ she explained softly, only keeping her fur from bristling with an effort. She'd heard of abandonment before, but had never met one of those most unlucky of Kin until now.

He stared at her. _Your Mistress lets you out for food?_ He sounded both incredulous and awed by the thought, as though it was something he'd knew of but never before experienced. _She lets you out… when it's not time to battle?_

Hazel felt her hackles rise and fought to calm herself, taking slow, deep breaths, focussing on the sweet scent of the waiting food and the rumble in her belly. She wouldn't start eating until this cousin of the lake did. _She's your Mistress now too, cousin, brother, pack-mate. Come and feed with me, and you'll see._

She turned slightly to give him the opening to come towards the dish, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the Mistress was beside Firefoot, stroking his long fur absently but watching them with crinkled, hopeful eyes. _Good. He'll be more likely to come, now._

And so he did, cautiously at first, low to the ground, but the eevee waited patiently until he was beside her before moving herself, walking next to him the whole short distance to the bowl. When he dipped his head to nibble at one of the pellets, finned tail curled around his side and one almond-shaped eye on the Mistress, she felt a thrill of satisfaction before bending to join him.

Keegan watched them both eat with a mixture of bemusement and delight. She had no idea what the water pokémon had said, and only the vaguest idea of what Hazel had been saying, but whatever it had been had worked. _I guess Nurse Joy was right,_ she thought, plucking absently at the thick fur between Firefoot's shoulder blades with her spare hand as she ate with the other, practically leaning on him because of the way she was sitting. For the whole time the meal lasted she made sure not to move out of the vaporeon's sight—he was on the opposite side of the purple dish that was his and Hazel's, ostensibly to watch her—and hardly dared to move at all, even when her shoulder started to ache from the position she was in. She'd been half afraid he would simply run off; she didn't want to give him a good reason to do so.

"Tarn," she said suddenly, having been watching him wash himself cautiously after his meal. One of his finned ears—one that, she noted, was slightly ragged from some past injury—twitched at the sound of her voice and he looked up curiously. She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging way. "Your name's Tarn. Is that okay?"

For a moment he stared at her with eyes so huge that her heart lurched and she was afraid she'd done something wrong.

Then he ducked his head timidly and she heard it—the slight, cautious rumble of a purr. She grinned, lifting a hand—half intending to pat him—but the vaporeon flinched, the purr faltered, and she quickly put her hand back down with an anxious apology.

_Okay, so we still have a ways to go._

Nonetheless, the purr started up again, faint but audible over the sound of twittering birds, as Tarn returned to washing himself. Keegan sat back, half holding her breath lest she scare him again, to watch.

No one noticed the pair of slanted red eyes watching them malevolently from an upwind alley.

* * *

_I really have to invest in getting some better maps. Or at least a better sense of direction._

Keegan was lost. Again. True, this time it was in among towering buildings and cookie-cutter houses as opposed to thick trees and crowding bushes, but that didn't change the fact. _Why'd they have to make the Magnet Train Station so bloody hard to find, anyway?_

It was late morning, now, which meant that she'd been wandering around uselessly for hours. Her feet weren't hurting—yet—because of all the exercise she'd done recently (and she thought she'd been fit enough in Alto Mare!), but as she strolled down an empty backstreet between tall, looming buildings, just coming out of the urban areas, she broodingly wished she'd thought to ask directions before she left the Pokémon Centre.

It was about then that she heard hurried footsteps coming from around the nearby corner, almost drowning out of the sound of someone muttering to themselves, and perked up. _Just what I needed…_

Abruptly a young man dressed in a maroon suit and not that much taller than the girl rushed around the corner, clutching a pile of folders which he was shuffling and reshuffling with indignant mumbles as he strode. He didn't see Keegan, and for a moment the girl was too startled to try and avoid him; by the time she recovered they'd collided, spilling his papers all over the pavement.

"Gwah!" he yelped in surprise, catching himself on the wall before he fell, and Keegan staggered back to regain her balance.

That was when she fully saw his wavy, ochre-coloured hair, the guileless eyes and boyish features, and blanched inwardly. _No way! Of all the people to crash into, it had to be someone famous!_ "Sorry!" she blurted, flushing in mortification, and knelt to give Bill the Pokémaniac a hand in scraping up the documents, his thick hair half shading his face as he ducked his head to do so.

"No, no, never mind, never mind," he reassured her hastily, and accepted the sheaf of papers she handed over to him, absently rifling through them before sighing. "Bother. Now I'll have to sort them all over again, not that it matters… oh no, can't make advances, can we, it costs too much, doesn't it? After all that…" He degenerated back into mumbles and looked about ready to walk off again before Keegan plucked up her courage to interrupt.

After all, she _still_ didn't know where the hell she was.

"Excuse me…" the girl began hesitantly, and smiled in embarrassed apology when he looked up, surprised and seeming to have forgotten about her. "Could you—could you please direct me to the Magnet Train Station?"

"The Magnet Train?" Bill repeated, blank-eyed for a moment, before his face lit up in recognition. "Oh, of course! It was finished so recently, I'd forgotten… it's on the other side of Goldenrod, I'm afraid, but there's an easy shortcut if you follow this way back a little way and choose the underground path…" he trailed off at her blank expression, clutching the papers to his chest because he'd pointed down the way he'd come.

"Uhm…" Keegan grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I still get lost in the library back home."

Okay, so that was an exaggeration, although not by much—she still couldn't find half the sections for reshelving, which was why Miriam used to post her in the backroom for sorting duty.

"Oh. Well, that _is_ a problem, Miss…?" He cocked his head, waiting for her name.

"Um, Keegan. M'name's Keegan."

"I'm Bill." He offered her a fleeting smile, still trying to shuffle the papers into some semblance of order. "And I'll tell you what. If you come with me, I'll just deliver these home—"with a wave of the folder he was holding in one hand—"And then I'll show you the way."

For a moment Keegan was dumbfounded, but before she could open her mouth to tell him he didn't have to do that he'd already started off at a brisk walk, calling over his shoulder, "It's not too far down the way, we'll be heading off for the station in a jiffy," and she had no choice but to follow.

He was right; it wasn't far, smack in the middle of the urban suburbs that Keegan had just wandered through, all with the same well-kept lawns and low-slung houses. He seemed almost to forget she was there again, sorting through his papers and muttering to himself about something over which he was clearly irked. Keegan, for her part, spent her time studying him out of the corner of her eye and recalling everything she could remember from the Pokémon Journal article which was either still on the shelf (or floor) in her room or packed away into the attic.

Actually, they almost passed the house completely before Bill realized they were there, stopping abruptly with a pink-cheeked apology when Keegan almost crashed into him again. She waited at the end of the short driveway while he went inside briefly to leave his notes, returning a few moments later and absently straightening the green ruff at his throat. "Now then. The Magnet Train Station?"

Keegan nodded mutely, not entirely sure how to act or respond. "You're quite lucky," Bill assured her as he guided her back through the suburbs, losing some of his vagueness now he didn't actually have his calculations in hand. "It only just opened. They thought it would take a good deal longer to complete than it did."

"Oh." was all Keegan could find to say, feeling a little silly at the nonsensical answer, but Bill didn't seem to mind whether she replied or not. He just lapsed into silence, apart from the occasional, mumbled comment to himself, no doubt about his work.

The entrance to the aforementioned underground path was a well-kept and often frequented building with white-washed walls and a pair of identical windows. It was flanked by a cheerful bookstore on one side and an electrical store on the other, and the sign at its front boasted the path's various shops.

"Oh, yes," Bill murmured as they approached, watching several laughing trainers exit the twin sliding doors and stroll past them down the street. "The underground is a favoured training area."

"Huh," Keegan half-answered quietly as they entered, glancing about at the small drooping pot plants and plastic benches which lined the walls of the small room. "I kinda imagined some dingy little walkway."

"Well, there are places like that, yes," Bill admitted, standing aside courteously so Keegan could go down the thin metal steps first. "Many of the old corridors have fallen into disrepair. That's where a lot of trainers go to battle; but for the most part, the main avenue is well-attended."

_I don't think Bill's been here in a long, long time,_ Keegan found herself thinking an hour later, deeply amused despite herself, her company and her situation as she watched the scatterbrained engineer looking about frantically for some kind of sign telling them where they were.

He'd been right; the central avenue had been teeming with booths and stores, not to mention shoppers. Well-lit by the huge round globes hanging overhead and decorated with long pot-plants, there had been colours and businesses galore—but then the avenue had split in two. And with badly hidden uncertainty, Bill had chosen the right-hand corridor.

Now as they progressed the corridor grew dingier, the walls covered in stained and ripped posters and most of the lights smashed, their glass littering the floor. Yet despite the oppressive gloom and the eerie, flickering illumination, even despite the lingering, awed twitch which insisted that she really shouldn't laugh at someone so famous—at least not in their company—Keegan managed to find the whole thing hilarious.

"Somehow I don't think this is the right way, Bill," Keegan offered as they came to an intersecting corridor, unable to maintain her respectful silence or to keep a bite of laughter out of her voice. _I'm still lost, but it seems so much funnier when it's not my fault. His sense of direction is as bad as mine!_

Bill looked down both ways, frowning at the matching halls. "Yes, well… you're probably right," he admitted reluctantly, rubbing his head with embarrassment.

Keegan shrugged, fighting to keep a smile of her face at his crestfallen expression. "So let's go this way," she suggested, gesturing down the left-hand passage.

"Very well… it seems as good a way as any," Bill agreed, still looking around as though expecting to see a neon exit sign. This time Keegan couldn't restrain a snort of laughter, turning down the corridor with broken glass crunching under her running shoes. "I'm frightfully sorry for all this," Bill apologised, hurrying to catch up to her, but Keegan just shook her head, grinning slightly at the novelty of having a celebrity apologise to her.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter," she said in answer, shifting her bag gingerly to ease its weight on her shoulder. "I'm not really in any hurry, and we'll find our way eventually, right?"

"I suppose," Bill agreed over the sound of their footsteps echoing down another intersection as they passed. He still sounded somewhat doubtful, though Keegan couldn't fault him for that.

_Still, neither of us can be that bad at finding our way, if we're always getting lost,_ the girl thought almost hopefully, taking a sidelong glance at the maroon-suited young man. _We have to get out of it somehow, it just takes us longer._

"But be that as it may—" Bill had begun next, when he was suddenly cut off by a dark figure which darted out of the passage beside him, ducking under their feet and almost tripping them both up. Bill exclaimed wordlessly in surprise, nearly slipping over before he managed to catch himself on Keegan's shoulder and almost making _her_ fall before she did the same on the wall. "An umbreon?" the pokémaniac muttered in slight confusion when they'd righted themselves, his eyes following the pokémon as it dashed behind an empty pot just down the corridor.

The next instant two darkly clad men also barrelled out of the junction, skidding to a halt upon seeing Keegan and Bill, the pair whirling around to face them.

_Oh, God—_ Keegan's stomach clenched, her body instantly tense as she recognised the uniform, the red letter imprinted on the shirt, straight out of her nightmares.

There came a squeak from next to her, a squeak that sounded suspiciously like a high-pitched expletive of, 'Team Rocket!', but she was too busy trying to breathe to look at her companion, even when he so obviously recognised them.

_Of course he did, are you stupid, everyone knows Team Rocket!_

One of the Rocket grunts cursed, making Keegan jump at the sound, and he pushed back on his cap to reveal squinty eyes and thin, spiky black hair. "No one was supposed to be back here!" he snarled, almost an accusation, expanding a pokéball with a hiss.

_That's bad—_

Keegan's panicked hands went for her pokéballs, but Bill got there first. An exeggcute materialized on the grimy floor, its six egg-like seeds bouncing, their eyes flashing blue hardly before the red glow had dimmed. A cerulean-tinged ripple of air surged outward from them, the waves crossing over each other and rebounding off the walls until the two Rockets shone with the same aura, stopped in their tracks. The pokéball dropped out of the grunt's raised hand, clattering uselessly to the ground, the pokémon inside a bare shadow behind the red surface as its trainer and his companion both slumped slowly down.

"Nice job," Keegan squeaked, although her tight grip on her bag-strap didn't loosen and she was backing almost mindlessly away from the men. "Can we go now?"

"I like that idea," Bill answered in a voice that was far too high-pitched to be entirely calm. In mutual agreement they fled onward, the exeggcute bouncing along after, while behind them the Rockets slept slumped against the peeling walls of the corridor.

When the two finally stopped it was in a small storage room filled with grimy, decaying crates, the dust billowing up in the wake of their steps and settling around them. Bill bent over his knees, panting, and Keegan leaned against one of the boxes, gripping her pendant tightly against the tight stitch in her side as the wood half crumbled under her touch. "What—the hell—is Team Rocket doing down here?" she gasped, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as Bill's exeggcute studied her from the dirty floor, looking confused.

"I— I'm not sure—I want to know," Bill answered breathlessly, still looking pale even though he straightened and smoothed down his lapels, dusting himself off with trembling hands. "But—we ought to report it to—to the Pokémon Association as quick as we can."

Keegan nodded wordlessly, her heart-rate beginning to slow. She didn't know what was worse; the abrupt, overwhelming rush of adrenaline from a face-to-face confrontation or the slow, agonising fear of spying.

_Confrontation,_ she decided, shakily brushing her sweat-damp fringe off her forehead. She, Ross and their pokémon had played spying ever since they were kids; she was somewhat used to it.

"_Cucucucucu!"_ The sudden, high-pitched voice of Bill's exeggcute made Keegan jump back against the crates, startled, as the pink seeds bounced enthusiastically at her feet.

"What—what—what—?!" she yelped in surprise, her hand flying to the pokéballs at her belt in an automatic response caused by the run-in with the magnemite and the few mareep she'd seen on the way to Goldenrod. Seeing her reaction, Bill hastily raised a pokéball, recalling the exeggcute mid-bounce; but Keegan stood frozen, her fingertips touching an empty space on her belt and her eyes widening in dawning horror.

"Oh, no," she whispered; then she frantically snatched at her pokéballs, expanding them one by one, but only two were filled. "Tarn's gone!"

"One of your pokémon?" Bill looked thunderstruck. "But they—but how—"

"I don't—I don't know!" Keegan's grip tightened on Hazel and Firefoot's pokéballs, staring fixedly into Hazel's as the eevee put her paws urgently on the inside surface of the sphere, black eyes insistent. "I have to go."

With that Keegan stepped around Bill and ran back the way they'd come, ignoring the pokémaniac as he made a grab for her wrist.

"You can't! Team Rocket's back there!" he shouted desperately after her retreating back.

He never got an answer.

"Oh dear," The young man wavered, raising a hand to pat his thick hair uncertainly and looking around almost as though expecting Officer Jenny to descend upon him helpfully. Then, tugging at his collar nervously, he chased after Keegan.

The girl didn't stop until she reached the decrepit corridor where they'd met with the Rockets, but the two criminals were long gone and Keegan took only a moment to see this before sweeping into the intersection and scouring the area recklessly. She hardly even noticed when Bill arrived, completely out of breath and clutching his side. "Oh, I'm not cut out for this," he wheezed, sitting on the long rectangular pot nearby.

"He's not here," Keegan moaned, feeling sick as she leaned over to check behind the pot and almost knocked Bill off his unstable perch. _I just got him and he's been through so much what must he be thinking of me now—_

She clutched at her pendant, tugging on it hard enough for the chain to dig into her skin and snapping her head around to look down the corridor the Rockets had come in by. "They must have—they must have—"

_They must have taken him,_ was what she couldn't say, and Bill's sharp, indrawn breath made it clear he understood. For several long moments Keegan stared blankly down the hall, almost as though her mind had simply shut down.

_What do I do? I can't do anything, I'm not even a trainer, I haven't practiced or anything, I'm not strong at all, not like Lance or Drake or Winona—_

_Stop,_ the 'little fox' ordered abruptly. _Panicking isn't helping, and you can't leave him behind._

_But what can I _do_? I can't—I can't—_

_You spied on a pair of Rockets without being seen, you held off a horde of magnemite, _and_ you helped hold off a trio of weird people in blue at the Tin Tower, so don't tell me you can't do anything. Remember when you met Ross._

_Oh…_

Keegan felt a pang. She'd met Ross not long after Peter and Miriam had adopted her, when she'd escaped out onto the street in the frustration of being forced to stay with people she didn't know. She'd stayed out for hours, ignoring the people who went out searching for her, until she'd run—literally—into a brown-haired boy about her age. She'd told him she didn't want to be found and he'd taken her down the back-alleys in his little cockleshell of a boat, pulled by the baby wailmer that was his companion.

It had been familiar, that feeling of running and hiding, and after that the pair and their pokémon had made it a series of games to make her feel more at home. It was what they were good at.

_That's what I can do._

_But…_ she swallowed._ But can I do it well enough? I'm scared…_

"Miss Keegan?"

Bill's hand on her arm broke her out of her reverie and her stomach lurched when she looked into his anxious brown eyes, realizing she had to make the decision _now_. "We should go to Officer Jenny," he said quietly.

"But by then it'll be too late," Keegan whispered. "I can't—I can't leave him." _God, I'm scared._

_But I can't leave him._

_I won't leave him._

She moved to turn away, but Bill exclaimed wordlessly and grabbed her shoulder. "Wait!" he cried. "You can't just go barging into danger like that. This isn't a game!"

Keegan's heart skipped a beat and for an instant she was frozen, caught by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu and an equally overwhelming sense of realization. For a heartbeat there was silence; then she turned slightly to look him out of the corner of her eye and said softly, "Yes, it is."

_It has to be. For now, it has to be, or I'll run away screaming. It's a game for now._

_I'll deal with the consequences later._

With that she pulled out of his grasp and hurried down the corridor, her heart pounding in her chest and her mind carefully blank to avoid thinking about just how frightened she was, her footsteps automatically light on the dirty floor.

Back at the intersection, Bill deflated, his fist clenching ineffectually in the air. Then he took a deep breath, grimaced, and followed after.

* * *

Voices echoed down the long, grimy corridors, and Keegan flinched and stopped short. Bill stifled a yelp, almost tripping over in his attempt not to crash into her, he'd been so close behind her and so busy looking around nervously.

Cautiously, eyes riveted to the broken doorway ahead of them, Keegan crept forward. With exaggerated care Bill stepped around the broken glass on the floor to follow, staring down to make sure he made no noise. They emerged through the doorway to find themselves in a huge storeroom, its steel pylons rusting but filled with crates that were larger and sturdier than the ones they'd seen previously. The Rockets' voices reverberated in the high space, marking their position as somewhere beyond the wall of timber.

Keegan sank down against the makeshift barrier, closing her eyes and taking a deep, shaky breath as Bill dropped to the ground beside her, wishing with all his might that he was somewhere else.

"Well, you got that link up and running?" one familiar voice snapped, sounding bored, and its apparent closeness made Bill jump and Keegan twitch.

"Not yet," the other agent sighed in a way that made it clear he'd said this many times before. "It takes time, you know."

"Hurry it up, then. As soon as we hack into the Game Corner's system, we'll be able to link it with the lab we have under the one in Celadon." He snorted, and Bill clutched at Keegan's arm, eyes wide. "So much for their ethics. Where'd they think we were getting _our_ pokémon prizes from, the breeding centre?"

"Breeding centres aren't as well established in Kanto," his lighter-voiced companion pointed out, clearly only half listening to the rant. "Besides, soon it won't matter. Once this connection is established, we'll be able to take over and use Goldenrod's Game Corner as a front to create a second lab right here in the underground."

"Yeah, we already got their first lab-rat for 'em," the first Rocket laughed cruelly, his hoarse voice echoed by a clang that sounded as though he'd kicked some kind of cage.

Keegan jerked in response, her breath catching in her throat and her heart skipping a beat, swallowing against sudden nausea. _Tarn,_ she thought with a mixture of despair and guilt, clenching her fists silently and pressing them into her lap until Bill's insistent tugging on the short sleeve of her shirt gained her attention.

"If you're so bored, why don't you go looking for those two idiots we ran into?" the second Rocket was saying irritably. "If they go to the police we'll be in a load of trouble."

"Forget it," the first Rocket answered dismissively. "The Association controls the police, and we practically control the Association."

At that Bill let out a disbelieving squeak, then clapped both hands over his mouth in horror at the slip, but the Rocket had begun talking again and it went unnoticed.

"Besides, if they do send people down here we'll just clear out and wait 'til they're gone again."

Keegan stopped listening and closed her eyes; every word was reminding her of their situation like a slap in the face, which was something she didn't need. She needed to believe this was a game, that it was Ross on the other side of the crates and not criminals, if only for a few minutes longer. Otherwise it was just too big, and she wasn't a hero or a police officer, she couldn't deal with extortion and theft and criminals—all she could do was save her newest friend.

So that's what she would do, and she would do it by playing a game the Rockets didn't even know they were participating in.

_I know how I can do it, too._

The girl opened her eyes and turned to Bill almost mechanically, the pokémaniac quaking beside her with wide eyes and hands still covering his mouth. "Does your exeggcute know Sleep Powder?" she asked softly, and Bill nodded hesitantly, his wavy hair flapping. "I need some. Quietly."

A few moments later Keegan had a handkerchief full of the sparkling green dust, carefully knotting the corners of the embroidered material and tying it to her belt, slipping her bag off her shoulder as Bill patted the tops of his exeggcute's seeds.

"How are you going to put them to sleep?" Bill asked urgently in a hushed voice, but Keegan wasn't listening, too busy focussing on what she had to do as she stood and clambered silently up the stack of boxes. Bill blinked, startled, then felt a rush of admiration and worry both, praying she wouldn't get herself killed.

Tensely Keegan peeked over the opposite edge of the crates, her body hugging the smaller boxes resting on the apex of the barrier and skin prickling with goosebumps and splinters, her nose itching with the dust-caused sneezes she refused to let loose. She saw the head of one of the Rocket grunts pacing as he muttered to himself, the spiky black hair jutting from under his cap marking him as the aggressor from before. Across the other side there was another wall of crates, just as high as the one upon which Keegan rested but backed against the stained concrete wall.

Next to that she could just see the top of a shiny, steel-barred case, reflecting the long, intermittent lights above. The second Rocket was so far unaccounted for.

For a few moments Keegan lay there, shaking, trying not to pant or throw up and certain she could do either one at any moment. With her heart in her throat and shaking hands, she slid forward until she could see inside the cage…

And felt a spear of despair plunge into her belly, her limbs clenching up. The pokémon in the cage wasn't Tarn; it was the umbreon which had led the Rockets on them in the first place. Its glaring red eyes tracked the pacing Rocket grunt, its hackles raised and ears back in an expression of defiant hostility.

_He's not here… I'm looking in the wrong place…_ Keegan's arms began to shake with the odd position she was holding and the adrenaline pumping through her, her thoughts on what to do next scrambled by panic and indecision. She flinched when the bored Rocket grunt began talking again but ignored his words, frantically searching out every visible corner of the room. _He has to be here, he has to, because if he isn't then I don't know where else to look and I can't have come here for no reason—_

_You didn't,_ the little fox pointed out. _There's a pokémon there who's going to be experimented on. Isn't that worth something?_

Her eyes fell on the black-furred pokémon and she managed to calm slightly. _Yes, it's something._

That was when the Rocket pounded on the roof of the cage with one fist as he passed, making Keegan jump and the pokémon back away with a curl of its lips. Keegan saw a flash of shiny red material as it cocked its head and glared at the man from close range, and jolted with recognition.

_Tarn's pokéball! He _is_ here! He is here, and that means…_

That meant she couldn't just turn around and go away like she wanted to. That meant she'd have to precipitate a confrontation, something she simply wasn't good at.

On the other hand, if her plan worked…

Keegan closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to still her shaking hands, then crept forward until she was well within the pacing Rocket's line of sight—if he'd cared to look up. It was only then that she could see the crates serving as a makeshift desk just below her, supporting a laptop computer with a dozen cords of varying sizes trailing out the back and leading into a hidden path within the array of boxes.

Seated on a small wooden crate, glaring impatiently at the screen, was the second Rocket, his silky red hair just touching his shoulders. If he had looked straight up he may have seen the boxes rocking slightly as Keegan eased herself onto the nearest cartons to the little alcove in which the Rockets were hidden. To the left was a veritable mountain of wares; to the right was the path out.

Slowly, carefully, keeping her eyes on the self-muttering Rocket, Keegan reached back and untied the handkerchief from her belt, bringing it forward. The umbreon heard her and flicked an ear forward cautiously, its aggression not abating one iota, but neither of its captors noticed.

Keegan reached out, her chest beginning to ache from holding all of her weight, and gently sprinkled green powder over the redheaded Rocket grunt. He blinked once or twice, shaking his head and making the dust glitter in the light, before slumping down to the makeshift desk. The sound caught the attention of his companion, who clicked his tongue irritably and strode over to shake him awake and, no doubt, give him a tongue-lashing.

Which was when Keegan scooped up a handful of powder and dumped it over him too.

Her heart sang with triumph as the man collapsed, suddenly making her feel as light as air, but she didn't dare let herself rejoice just yet. "Bill!" she hissed over her shoulder to warn the young man; then, without checking to see if he'd heard, she scrambled hastily over the crates to drop to the floor beside the slumbering men, their caps and hair sparkling with the powder. Twitchily, absently brushing dust off her clothes, Keegan hastily searched the thin, black-haired Rocket to find the key to the cage. Once she had it she rushed over there with jumpy, overanxious steps and inserted it into the hole. The umbreon growled, deep in his throat, but didn't release Tarn's minimized pokéball.

"Please, please, please, please, please," Keegan prayed, fumbling with the key, her hands shaking and heart still in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Her back kept prickling with awareness, her mind imagining the Rockets sneaking up on her without her knowledge—she didn't know how long the powder would last and had forgotten to ask.

The cage finally clicked and, casting a worried glance over at the Rockets, Keegan yanked on the cage door only to have it jam with a seemingly ear-splitting screech. The girl jumped, stifling a surprised scream, then tugged on it uselessly, her breath coming in short, panicky gasps.

With an irritated growl the umbreon backed away and charged suddenly at the door. It opened with another screech, knocking Keegan back onto the concrete floor. The heavy steel cage tipped forward, spilling the umbreon out and landing on the cement just a foot from Keegan's legs with a crash that could awaken the dead.

"What the—" Keegan heard distantly, echoed by a "Goodness!" and knew that the Rockets had woken up, countered by Bill's timely arrival, but she didn't have time to worry as the umbreon tried to dart under the cage and out to freedom. Without thinking Keegan grabbed him around the middle; just as instinctively it snarled and whipped around, dropping Tarn's pokéball and sinking its fangs into Keegan's wrist.

Tarn's pokéball bounced, expanding, as Keegan let out an explosive curse, jerking away from the umbreon and banging her shins against the cage when she rolled. The umbreon dodged out of the alcove as Tarn's pokéball landed once again, releasing him in a flash of light.

For a moment the pokémon staggered, disorientated; then his mouth tingled with the familiar taste of his litter-mate. _Brother!_ He shifted to slink automatically in the direction the trail was strongest, but the sound of rushing wings made his ears go back and his head turn. His water-attuned eyes caught the slightly distorted image of a huge purple bat diving at the girl, the girl the cousin of the wilderness had called his Mistress, the girl who had saved him—

The vaporeon made his decision.

Keegan pushed herself up, mind muddled, struggling to catch up, and looked up into a huge mouth open in a toothy leer. Her stomach clenched and she scrabbled backwards, but it was too late, the golbat was too close—

"_Vuubuon!"_ Tarn jumped on Keegan's shoulder, knocked her down for the second time in as many minutes. The golbat's sharp fangs missed the girl and grazed Tarn's side, scraping several thin, bloody lines across his haunch. Tarn hissed, spinning on dainty paws to Tail Whip it into tomorrow; caught straight in its huge maw, Golbat chomped down on Tarn's slender tail.

_Tarn! _Keegan jolted back to a sitting position to see just as the vaporeon howled shrilly in pain, automatically pounding the golbat into the floor and leaving a smear of his own blood. Dazed, Golbat relinquished his grip, and Tarn whipped his tail towards it once again, red droplets flinging off his slick fur to scatter on the concrete and patter lightly over Keegan's face.

His attack was interrupted as he was tackled by a thick-furred raticate, sent sprawling towards the middle of the alcove, his previous target fluttering out of range. Keegan pushed herself up against the cage, gritting her teeth against the sharp pain in her wrist and the ringing in her ears as she went for her pokéballs. She released Hazel just in time to bowl the raticate over, inches from where Tarn was staggering to his feet. Snarling, Hazel spun on her paws to send the muscular raticate flying with her thick, fluffy tail, while Tarn fired a Water Gun over her back in time to catch the diving golbat and drive it back towards its trainer in a spray of froth.

With a curse the black-haired Rocket grunt jumped to the side, water droplets spurting everywhere, dampening the ground and drenching his clothes, and his golbat instead crashed into the mountain of boxes, making them shake violently. Before they or the Rocket grunt could recover the raticate followed, colliding with the man in the chest and making him slip back. With loud thuds the crates tumbled down upon the Rocket and his two dazed pokémon.

_I need—I need—_

"Aurora Beam!" Keegan shouted breathlessly, hoping, praying, that Tarn knew the attack. The vaporeon's mouth glowed, the air vibrating with cold as the temperature suddenly dropped, ice glittering with the light overhead as Tarn cast a barrier of frost over the crates, preventing the Rocket's escape.

_Okay, what now—_

"Bonemerang!"

The order caught Keegan's attention and her head snapped around in time to see the other Rocket's cubone draw back one brown paw and hurl its weapon towards the battered vulpix staggering to its feet just across the way.

"Tarn, Water Gun it!" the girl said urgently, motioning towards the battle, and the vaporeon darted forward, opening his mouth to blast water towards the club spinning end-over-end towards the red-furred fox. The attack caught the bone and drove it back to hit the wood behind it, exploding against the crates and making them shake and tilt dangerously as Bill's handkerchief, left behind by Keegan, drifted gently to the grimy floor. Vulpix cringed when some of the spray hit it, one lamed paw held gingerly off the ground, but it took advantage of the opportunity to catch its breath as the cubone recoiled from the liquid.

The redheaded Rocket cursed at their interference, expanding the pokéball he had in his hand and releasing a stout drowzee in a flash of scarlet light.

_Psychic, not good!_

"Quick Attack!" Keegan ordered hurriedly, remembering the way Eusine's Alakazam had all but monopolised their battle until a dark-type pokémon came into play—which she didn't have. _Could use that umbreon right now!_

She never specified which of her pokémon should attack, but she was still a little surprised when Hazel nudged Tarn encouragingly as she dashed forward to obey and Tarn hesitated only a moment before following willingly. The pair flashed across the alcove, leaping over each other and striking the drowzee with two consecutive hits. It reeled back, long nose whipping the air, and the cubone skittered desperately out of the way to avoid being stepped on.

Hazel seized the opportunity to dart past their guards and slam violently into the crates the Rockets had been using as a desk. The wood crumbled, the laptop sliding from its perch to crash to the floor in an explosion of sparks while the eevee raced for the vaporeon crouched defensively in front of Bill and Vulpix, her expression one of self-satisfied triumph.

"You—" the Rocket looked a mixture of stunned and furious as Hazel flicked her tail at him disdainfully, and Keegan didn't know whether to be shocked by her audacity or laugh at it; either way the girl was in awe.

_Since when has Hazel been such a good battler?!_

"Hypnosis!"

_That's bad._

"Fire Spin!" Bill yelled out almost simultaneously from where he'd been standing back, his face pale and hands clutching Keegan's bag to his chest as though for comfort. His vulpix darted between Hazel and Tarn, eyes narrowed with determination even though it had only three paws to walk on. With a high keen it opened its mouth, allowing fire to explode from its dainty muzzle. Flames roiled towards the psychic pokémon at the same time that the drowzee's eyes flashed blue, lines of air rippling outward.

The fire and the Hypnosis collided in sparks of blue-orange flames and a wave of heat that made anything close to it flinch back. Keegan staggered to her feet as the blaze dissipated into nothingness, leaving the vulpix standing unsteadily with one paw raised, its breathing laboured while the boxes around it smouldered and began to catch fire.

The drowzee was gone and the Rocket was in the process of returning his singed cubone, spinning on his heels to scramble over the unruly mounds of boxes without even glancing at the melting ice restraining his companion. Hazel went after him while Tarn skidded to halt in front of the burning crates, drawing back his head to fire jets of water at them and put them out.

Hazel bounded up onto one of the undamaged crates to follow the Rocket, but at that moment several boxes collapsed into cinders, shifting the balance and making the entire heap move. Hazel's paws skittered over timber as she tried desperately to keep her balance, but it was too late; kicking up dust and wood, the Rocket pushed his way out of the jumble and dashed down a corridor.

The smell of wet smoke filled the air of the abruptly silent room and Keegan sank back down to the floor, all the tension draining out of her and leaving her feeling weak and dazed. _It's over. It's all over._

_And we won. We won the game._

…_we won the game that wasn't a game._

She felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her and took several deep breaths to avoid breaking down. Instead her eyes lit upon the sleek vaporeon who was staring at his quick-thinking handiwork and her stomach twisted with the might-have-been and a sharp sense of victory. _I saved him. I did that._

"Tarn, you okay?" she asked him a little dazedly, still clutching her wrist, her hand now with red trickling between her fingers. The vaporeon jumped in surprise at being addressed, his ears flickering and eyes wide from whatever he'd been thinking, hunkering down towards the floor in automatic debasement.

"_Eebui,"_ Hazel purred, trotting up to his side reassuringly before looking up at Keegan with a sort of reflected pride in her pack-mate—pride which quickly morphed into concern when her sharp eyes took in the view of her trainer.

"Goodness me," Bill mumbled from where he was kneeling by the soaked and burned crates, cradling his injured vulpix and letting it snuggle comfortingly into his elbow. "I'm not cut out for this… I can't do this… dear Lord, are you all right?"

For he'd just looked over at Keegan and seen her bleeding wrist. She looked down at it and now that she'd remembered it she began to feel the sharp, throbbing pain and the itch as blood made tracks down her skin.

"Oh," Keegan stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment; then there came a hesitant whine nearby and she looked up to see Tarn offering her Bill's singed and damp handkerchief, the vaporeon looking anxious and skittish. Keegan blinked and took it, managing to summon up a grateful smile for the vaporeon as she pressed the handkerchief against the four dainty punctures on her wrist. "Thanks."

"_Vuubuon,"_ Tarn flicked his ears forward, keeping low to the floor, his expression something akin to confused, almost frightened pleasure—like he'd never heard that word before, not directed at him—as Hazel pressed herself against Keegan's thigh in support.

"What do we do now?" she asked Bill wearily as the pokémaniac stood, clutching his vulpix in his crossed arms and letting its fiery red tails droop down.

_She's asking _me_?_ Bill looked around at the charred crates, smoke still in the air; at the black ash and red embers mixing with the glittering sleep powder and the twinkling ice-dust; the clutter of crates; the frozen barrier. _Hm. Actually, considering what's happened so far…_

He looked at the dusty, injured young woman, her blonde hair in disarray and white top turned grey, at the three pairs of eyes which looked at him questioningly, and cut off that thought. _She got her pokémon back, and she was willing to face up against two Rocket grunts to do it. How many trainers could say that?_

_Although I have to wonder exactly why _I'm_ here…_

Bill shook his head to clear his thoughts. "We should go to the police," he decided, his vulpix peeking over its ruddy-brown paws resting on its master's arm. Keegan didn't argue as he'd feared she would; instead she just tied his handkerchief around her wrist and stood, dabbing away the trails down her hand.

"I'll go to the police," Bill added. "You should go on to Celadon."

"Why?" Keegan asked, reaching out to take her bag from him and inwardly wincing at the slightly whiny tone of her voice. She wanted to sleep. If she didn't feel so wrung out she'd had been a little more concerned about what happened, and later she probably would be, but right then she couldn't muster the energy to care. Absently the girl swept the ash and powder off her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

"Because you need to warn the gym leader about the laboratory under the Celadon Game Corner," Bill explained, returning his vulpix to its own pokéball to rest and brushing inattentively at his suit.

"Okay," Keegan agreed in a small voice, wiping at the itch on her cheeks and blinking dumbly down at the red smears on her fingers before remembering the blood was Tarn's.

"We'll—we'll have to leave that other fellow here," the pokémaniac said in afterthought, and hoped that the man wouldn't freeze half to death before they got him help. "But first we've got to get you to the Magnet Train—it's right next to the police station, so it shouldn't take long."

"Lead the way," Keegan forced a tired smile, pulling up her reserves of mental strength. "I'm—I'm starving." She managed a tiny grin when Hazel clawed her jeans leg eagerly in agreement. "Hope Celadon has some good food."

Bill stared at her for a moment before chuckling weakly, remembering back to the way she'd pronounced the whole escapade as a game and wondering, with a twinge of worry, exactly what she was planning to do in Celadon.


	6. Some Like It Hot

** V **

**SOME LIKE IT HOT**

Keegan stared.

Her head tilted back as she looked up at the sprawling, old-day building that was the Celadon University. The wide structure was made of red brick, ivy swathing the walls and beneath the many windowsills like green velvet, the bricks looking almost golden in the stray early-afternoon sunlight peeking through the clouds.

She'd left Bill in Goldenrod some hours ago, having rushed to catch the next train in time—and after he'd secured her promise not to go sneaking around the Game Corner. _I think I scared him a little._

She gave a short laugh. _I think I scared _myself_ a little. A lot._

Of course he'd only had to suggest it before her mind started _planning_ it, even if she hadn't even considered it before. It was just, when she thought of how she'd pulled off her rescue she felt that familiar glow of satisfaction for completing a difficult task, the sense that she was invincible and could do anything.

Then she'd see a flash of black, her heart would leap to her throat, and she'd turn around only to see it was someone's else's shirt or pants and not a red-lettered uniform.

But the fear would remain.

Her first stop in Celadon had been the Pokémon Centre, where she'd left Tarn to recuperate—with Firefoot for company, to reassure the vaporeon she wasn't about to go off and leave him. She'd considered leaving Hazel instead, but the eevee wasn't injured and a sense of nostalgia had prompted Keegan into deciding otherwise (as well as the eevee's strong propensity for being a mother-hen).

Besides, she figured the other two could use the time to introduce themselves properly.

The gym had been next, but Erika wasn't there, leaving Keegan to wonder whether gym leaders ever actually showed up—she remembered what had come of her going out to look for Morty in Ecruteak. One of the trainers had told her that Erika lectured at the University, so here she was.

Keegan took a deep breath and held it for a minute before letting it go with a sigh. _Well, here goes. Just think, after this you can go and relax for a few hours. _Hitching her bag up on her shoulder, she approached the wide, carved oak doors, pushing them open and peeking in hesitantly. The rich timber walls of the main hall were covered in paintings and tapestries, and there were myriads of plants brightening the room. Directly across from the entrance doors was a long polished receptionist desk, framed by twin gleaming stairways leading up to the other levels.

Her footsteps echoing on the wide tiles of the floor, Keegan made her way towards the desk, drawing the attention of the balding middle-aged man who was behind it. "Can I help you?" he asked over his spectacles with a raised eyebrow, taking in her somewhat dishevelled appearance.

Keegan flushed a little, acutely aware of herself after the battle this morning even though she'd taken the time at the Pokémon Centre to clean up. "Um, yes, I'm—I'm looking for Erika."

"_Lady_ Erika," the receptionist corrected sternly.

"Lady Erika," Keegan repeated dutifully, feeling like she was back in school.

"Lady Erika is teaching a class at the moment," the receptionist told her coolly, folding his hands over the open book he'd been writing in. "I can tell her you were here, however, and you may try her again at the gym later on."

Keegan hesitated. She didn't want to disturb anyone; maybe she should have gone to the police first…

_But nothing. This is regarding the welfare and safety of Celadon City—I think this is cause enough to interrupt just about anything! Besides, Bill told you to go right to Erika, didn't he? He must have had a reason._

"Um, no, thanks. It's urgent, can't you just… tell me where she is?" the girl asked a little desperately.

The man looked at her appraisingly, and for one heart-stopping moment Keegan thought he was going to refuse; then he sighed and shook his head, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Far be it for me to regulate the professors' schedules," he muttered as if to himself, replacing his spectacles, and then addressed himself at Keegan. "Lady Erika is in the courtyard. Follow the hall around the stairs and you'll find a door leading out there. But first, please sign in here." And he held out a small notebook and a pen, tapping the paper with the nib.

A few moments later Keegan was on her way, feeling vaguely discomforted by the fact that she'd just put her name down where anyone could find it out.

_Stop it,_ she told herself severely as she exited the building through the open doors and stepped on the lush turf of the yard, following the distant sound of a strong voice that was drifting towards her from the crowd of students she could see across the lawn. _Bloody hell, but you're getting paranoid. The Rockets don't know who you are or where you were going, and they wouldn't have much reason to go after you anyway, even if that guy escaped. They have better things to do than plan revenge on some travelling girl._

By this time she'd reached the students, absently taking in the formal uniforms—skirts, blouses and bows for the girls, pants, shirts and ties for the boys, and jackets for both. For a few moments she stood uncomfortably on the outskirts, trying to see over the heads of the students to see their lecturer—the voice was a woman's, light but firm. After a while she started to work her way around the crowd, uncomfortably aware of the attention she was drawing; a gaggle of young women dressed in the colours of red and yellow were watching her, giggling and whispering at her clothes and windswept hair, while a number of the boys, in hues of blue and green, eyed her contemptuously and then looked away.

_I get the feeling this is a high-class place,_ she thought uneasily as she came around the edges of the class to see the pretty, black-haired young woman standing on a stone bench situated just off a dirt-floored arena. Her hands were folded before her, half hidden by the draping sleeves of her yellow kimono and the thick folds of her pink hakama.

_Erika._

She was shorter than she looked in the Pokémon Journal, Keegan thought, but she had a sense of calm, refined grace about her which held the girl fascinated.

"Are there any questions?" the gym leader was asking, scanning her students' faces for confusion, and when there was no answer forthcoming she gave a short nod. "Very well, then. Match up by ID number, odds against evens, and then battle in alphabetical order. We'll begin shortly."

With that she hopped off the bench, covered by the sound of rustling clothes and low mutters as the students began to rearrange themselves. Keegan took the opportunity to make a beeline for Erika, approaching the petite gym leader hesitantly. "Excuse me?"

Erika turned at the sound of her voice, studying her in much the same way that Keegan remembered Eusine had, and the blonde-haired girl shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with her bag-strap as she waited for the Elite Trainer to speak. "I'm sorry," Erika said finally. "But if you want a battle, you'll have to see me at the gym."

"Oh, no," Keegan said hurriedly, stifling the brief flash of panic she felt at the very thought of battling a gym leader. She'd be slaughtered within a moment, she had no doubt of that. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry to bother you, but I have—an urgent message. From Bill the Pokémaniac."

Erika's eyebrows shot skyward. "From Bill?" she echoed, but her expression wasn't surprise—not exactly. It was more like she'd just received unpleasant news that she wasn't expecting—or rather, was anticipating some unpleasant news. "What would Bill want to talk to me about?"

"Um…" Automatically Keegan looked around to find half the students' eyes on her, some discreet, some not. "Can we—can we talk about this somewhere else?"

_Oh my God, I feel like I'm in a bad crime movie._ Keegan flushed, catching the sound of sniggers somewhere behind her, but Erika didn't laugh. She just looked the girl in the eye, examining her for the second time before giving a nod and holding out a hand towards the other side of the arena, raising her voice to give orders to her students.

"Please occupy yourselves for a few minutes. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Keegan trailed after the gym leader as she walked away, trying to put her thoughts into some intelligible order. _Why am I involved in all this?_ she wondered vaguely. _Oh, that's right. I had to rescue Tarn._

_But why did they have to take Tarn in the first place?_

She was jolted out of her ramblings by Erika's even voice. "And what does Bill have to say to me that he couldn't over the phone?"

_Oh boy. Where do I start?_ Keegan took a deep breath, searching for ideas. _From the beginning; location would be a good start._ "I just came from Goldenrod City," she began, hesitantly at first, and then gaining speed as her story went on, trying to be thorough but not boring. It was harder than she'd thought; she kept on wanting to give reasons and defend her actions. When she came to the point of explaining why she'd gone back to confront the Rockets instead of going to the police, she couldn't help herself.

"I couldn't leave him," she mumbled towards the ground, her cheeks warming at the imagined look of disapproval on Erika's face, but when the girl glanced up the only expression the gym leader was wearing was one of attentive concern. "We overheard some things, while we were trying to figure out what to do."

Keegan swallowed. "They said—they said they have a laboratory under Celadon." Erika's face flickered, so quickly that Keegan didn't catch it, and the girl hastily added, "They were talking about the Game Corner. About how they wanted to buy the Goldenrod Game Corner but couldn't, so they had to set up a lab under it in secret—a lab like the one they have under the Celadon Game Corner."

That was when Erika interrupted for the first time, and her question filled Keegan with a deep sense of abiding fear. "Do they know you heard this?"

"I—I don't—" Keegan faltered. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, struggling to think back—and remembering some other things which she really had to tell her. "I don't know if they realized it or not. They knew we were there—we got into a battle with them later—but I don't know if they realized—it sounded like they owned the Game Corner," she tacked the last one on the end quickly, before she could forget it, wanting desperately to change the subject. "They were talking about 'our pokémon prizes', like they owned it. And—and they were talking about the Association. About how they didn't need to worry about Bill and me if we went to the police, because the Association owns the police and they own the Association."

_That's why Bill sent me to Erika,_ the girl realized with the force of a blow in her gut, feeling sick at the realization that she'd almost made the decision to go to the Celadon police instead. _He didn't want to risk the investigation getting stopped, or twisted, or something._

She continued the story in a half-daze, all the ramifications of the day's events beginning to come down on her like a sledgehammer. _Oh good God and all the Legends, what have I gotten myself into?_

"And—and that's it, I came here, and here I am, and—" Suddenly aware that she was rambling, Keegan cut herself off by taking a deep, shaking breath and pinning desperate eyes upon Erika. "What do I do now?"

"Now," Erika said firmly. "Now you go to the Pokémon Centre, have your pokémon healed, and leave Celadon as soon as possible. It was dangerous of Bill to send you here, knowing what you just told me, and knowing that one of the operatives escaped and would likely come here himself to report to his superiors—but it was all you could do and now I may take the necessary actions."

Keegan resisted the urge to shudder at the chill that swept over her. For the second time that day her mind disengaged itself—or the third, maybe, she wasn't really sure; there were some definite hazy patches in her memories of the morning—and she found herself saying almost inanely, "I needed to come this way anyway."

"Then you must continue to wherever you were going," Erika said evenly. "It's doubtful the Rockets will chase after you—you are, after all, barely more than a messenger—but if they find you here in the city they may take the opportunity that presents itself."

"Okay," Keegan whispered, the food she'd eaten at the Pokémon Centre sitting heavily in her stomach.

Erika looked at her and smiled kindly, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "You've done well," she said gently. "I don't believe you're in any danger, but it's best to be safe. You are a trainer, yes? Continue training your pokémon, and they will serve you as well as they did this morning if the time comes."

And before Keegan could unstick her tongue to say that no, she wasn't a trainer, Erika had already turned away to stride briskly back to her students, her pace quick and bearing calm despite the news she had just received. Her voice floated over to Keegan as she told her students she had to leave and gave them her apologies, and by the time the blonde-haired girl had managed to shake herself free of her daze the gym leader was already halfway across the courtyard.

Turning around, she found herself faced with the stares of the class, none of them friendly. Her cheeks reddened and she looked down to the ground, trudging across the arena towards the doors so she could leave. As she passed the group, her path was abruptly blocked by a pair of dainty shoes and knee-high socks, and she glanced up to meet with the caustic gaze of a girl with long brown hair, done up in a ribboned ponytail.

"You know," the girl announced haughtily, looking Keegan up and down and wrinkling her nose. "My parents pay an awful lot for me to come to this school, and I'm sure they won't appreciate some little ragamuffin coming in off the street to steal our best lecturer away from us."

_What?_ Keegan flushed, half in embarrassment and half with the anger that was stirring beneath her shock. "I didn't steal her," she protested irritably. "And it was important, anyway."

"Pokémon battles are important," the girl shot back. "What if we got attacked? Are _you_ going to teach us how to defend ourselves? But then," she added quickly, eyeing the white bandage Keegan had replaced Bill's handkerchief with at the Pokémon Centre, "_You_ don't seem to have had much luck in that regard either."

"I'm not a teacher," Keegan said stiffly, wishing desperately for the familiar, winding streets of Alto Mare where she could—and often had—so easily hide, and for Ross to act as a foil for her as he had so often done. Not this time. This time she was on her own, faced with one of the trials she'd thought she'd left behind: the scathing barbs of a teenage girl.

_I'm supposed to have trouble with rampaging pokémon and getting lost in random places, not be verbally attacked by some arrogant twit,_ Keegan thought in frustration. In school she'd often been teased for not knowing who she was, and although that died down for the most part once the novelty of her new arrival wore off, especially with the reflection of Ross' local fame, she still remembered how badly it had hurt. She was acutely aware of the intimidating presence of the students—most of them were her age or a few years older, all of them so well dressed and so confident that they made her _feel_ just like a ragamuffin.

"But you can still help us train," a new voice said, smooth and amused, and Keegan's head snapped around as a boy came through the circle. He was taller than her, and slender, with turquoise hair that fell in deliberately tousled curls. His eyes were a deceptively soft green, but there was a cunning, haughty light there which gave Keegan a dawning sense of dread.

_Oh, no._ "Help you train how?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice from breaking. How was it that a bunch of half-schooled trainers could make her feel more anxious than a pair of Team Rocket agents?

The young man held up an expanded pokéball and smiled disarmingly—a smile which didn't reach his eyes. "I was thinking of a pokémon battle. You _do_ have pokémon, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow amid laughter, eyes flickering down to the pokéballs at her waist to show that he knew perfectly well she did.

Keegan hesitated, gripping the strap of her bag tightly with her uninjured hand. She wasn't a battler, and she knew they knew it; she could save herself some embarrassment by just turning around and walking away. She hated fighting—in Alto Mare her fights had always ended up with either Ross taking over or her running away in tears, so it wasn't like leaving now would make much of a difference.

But the expressions on their faces said they clearly expected her to try and back out. Accepting a battle would be unexpected, and she could get some training of her own in besides… _and Erika herself said I should train, just in case. Just in case is a good reason—that's something that Pete was obsessed with, being prepared, even though I wasn't so good at that when I first left…_

_And… and I don't want to back down. I didn't back down against the Rockets, why should I back down now? These people just want to battle to humiliate me—the Rockets wanted to _hurt_ me. Maybe I can turn that around. All the battles I've been in haven't been for fun, they've been out of necessity. Maybe…_

"Okay," she agreed, suddenly feeling more confident. _Maybe I can actually have some fun. And win or lose, at least I know I'll have stood up to them—like I never could back then, like I only just learned to do when I left Alto Mare._

_I think… I think I like knowing I can do that._

A derisive laugh made her look back at the brown-haired girl. "You're going to lose," the girl told Keegan with blunt satisfaction. "Tynan's top of our class, and ours is this year's graduating class. He's never lost, and he's not going to start now."

Keegan stayed silent; she had no reply to that. Instead she said, "It'll have to be one-on-one. I only have one of my pokémon with me—I didn't expect to be battling." _Hell, I didn't even _want_ to be battling, but Hazel was so cool this morning—maybe she can show me how it's done._

"One-on-one's fine with me," Tynan agreed, staring at her from through the wisping curls of his fringe in faint puzzlement, as though she'd just done something he didn't expect.

Keegan felt a pang of satisfaction as she moved to her side of the field. _Well, good. He should be confused._ The vindictiveness with which she had the thought surprised her, but he _had_ been kicking her while she was down, so he deserved it.

"This will be a one-on-one match," one of the other students, a stocky boy with flyaway hair, announced from atop the referee's stand. "No time limit. Begin!"

Tynan grinned in sudden confidence, loosening his blue tie before expanding a pokéball with a flick and releasing a blazing flareon onto the field, its flames casting strange shadows over the dirt.

_Oh boy._ Keegan stared, Hazel's pokéball already in her hand. She knew she should've been expecting an evolution of some kind, but an eeveelution? _Damn. Tarn would've made this an interesting match, and at least I'd have had the type advantage… oh well, here goes._ And she threw Hazel's pokéball into the ring.

"Fire Spin!" Tynan ordered before Hazel had even materialized properly, and with a roar of flames the eevee was enveloped in a writhing orange inferno. Keegan jumped at the speed of the attack, flinching away from the heat as the pokéball flew back to her hand, but she instantly dropped it with a yelp, the outside surface uncomfortably hot. "Now follow up with Quick Attack!" she heard, and the fluffy eeveelution flashed across the dusty field, vanishing into the blazing tornado like a rock into a river. A second later Hazel exploded out the back in lashes of fire, smoke pouring off her blackened fur in ashy ribbons.

_Not fair, he didn't even give her a chance to get out of her pokéball!_

_Don't complain, you didn't exactly play fair when you dumped sleeping powder all over the Rockets._

_Oh, shut up._

The outside swirl of sparks dissipated into the air, but the fire remained, the flareon's orange and red fur blazing with thick veins of molten flame, and for an instant Keegan panicked, even while a part of her noted the occurrence. _Flash Fire: a fire pokémon's attribute, in which their elemental powers are enhanced by storing the heat from other fire attacks._

_It used its own attack to power itself up!_

The flareon drew back its head and opened its mouth, fire roiling in the back of its throat to explode towards Hazel in a thick streamer of flames, but the eevee flipped over in midair, landing lightly and springing away into an evading Quick Attack. Keegan ducked at the fire coursed overhead, the heat making her skin feel tight and dry, and her knees hit ground, one hand coming down to balance herself. _I hate it when they aim at _me_! What was I thinking?!_

Hazel hit the flareon full on, sending it tumbling back as Keegan recovered, scrambling to her feet and picking up the cooling pokéball as she went. _Haze has a disadvantage because she can't use long-range attacks. I wish I'd trained more seriously before I left Alto Mare—I was never really interested in battling—what _was_ I thinking when I agreed to this?_

_But she really looks like she knows what she'd doing,_ the little fox pointed out as Hazel skidded to a guarded halt, ears twitching as she panted and Flareon rolled back onto its feet. _And how do you know she doesn't know any long-range attacks?_

Keegan's eyes widened. _That's right… she could have learned _any_ attack, before—_

"Flareon, Flamethrower!" Tynan commanded, his blue pants and jacket rustling in the heated air pouring off his charged flareon. The eeveelution's fur blazed, its black eyes flashing as the Flamethrower built in its throat.

"Shadow Ball!" Keegan retaliated instantly without thinking, feeling as though it was someone else saying the words but knowing it was right, that if Hazel knew any other attacks that would be one of them—because she'd considered teaching it to her once, back when she had gotten tired of running and hiding from the school bullies. If she thought it was a good choice now, wouldn't she think it was a good choice then, too?

"_Eebuuu!"_ with a joyful mew, as though Hazel had just been waiting for the command, the eevee sucked in a breath to obey, a writhing mass of shadows gathering in her mouth as dusty veins wreathed about her, mixing with the dark smoke still drifting off her fur. In the same instant as Flareon she released the dusky ball, shadows streaming away behind it as it shot towards her evolution and met the sparking Flamethrower in a brilliant explosion of ash and mist.

"Tak— Take Down!" Keegan coughed, yanking Bill's cleaned handkerchief out of her pocket and using it to cover her face against the dusty gloom and smell of burned sand which hung over the field. She hoped that Tynan wouldn't dare attack while he couldn't see—she figured people like that always liked being in control—but Hazel had been her constant companion whenever she went out at night and her eyes had always been sharp in the dark.

The thin haze cleared in time for Tynan to realize the danger, but far too late to avoid it. Hazel collided with Flareon with all the force she could muster, a tiny grunt forced from the eevee's lungs as she hit. With a surprised cry the flareon skidded back, slewing across the hot ground to jump almost instantly back to its feet.

Instantly, but not without damage; it was panting as heavily as Hazel, now, its flaming coat dying down to a light glow even as Tynan ordered another Fire Spin.

Hazel tried to dodge the roaring flames but they twisted about her, enveloping her for a second time, and Keegan unknowingly crushed the handkerchief in her fist, her teeth gritting. _Why did I ever think this would be fun?!_

"Quick Attack!" Tynan flashed her a confident smirk from across the arena as Flareon leaped headlong into the outside wall of the inferno… only to appear, confused and alone, out the other side.

"What the—?" Keegan gaped at the surprised look on the flareon's face as their eyes met briefly, and Tynan's hand went to run through his hair in astonished bewilderment.

Abruptly the ground shifted and dirt exploded around Flareon as Hazel burst up from beneath it, tossing the elegant fire pokémon into the air and making her trainer jump back at the clods of earth and shower of sand which bombarded her. The girl felt a strange sense of familiarity, as though she'd seen this before, and her heart clenched, her breath catching with the thought that she'd been right, that Hazel had been a battler since before she came to Alto Mare and Keegan had forgotten it like she'd forgotten everything else—and Hazel had just been waiting for her to realize it.

Quickly Keegan wiped away the burn of tears in her eyes, telling herself that she had to focus now and she could celebrate later—and if she won it would be celebration enough. _I've found something else out!_

"Shadow Ball!"

"_Bubui!"_ Hazel yowled gladly in response. Shaking soil and smoke from her scorched brown fur, the eevee fired a shifting mass of darkness towards the still-airborne flareon.

The twisting orb engulfed Flareon amid the distressed cries of the onlooking students, but Tynan just seemed to step back, his eyes darkening and jaw clenching silently along with his crossed arms. As the outer edges of the Shadow Ball dissipated, casting an ashy pall over the field, Flareon hit the ground with a hard thud, rolled, and staggered to its feet. It gulped in huge breaths, trembling with exhaustion, one paw lifted gingerly half off the ground—but its black eyes flashed with incensed pride.

"Sand Attack," Tynan ordered almost softly as Hazel flashed across the arena, paws barely touching the dusty, ash-strewn ground, having been moving before Flareon even landed. At the last second, using its fluttering, fluffy tail, Flareon obeyed, kicked up the sand around it. It swirled about the eevee, getting in her eyes and nose, and with a choking cough Hazel faltered, her attack missing the lamed flareon by inches.

But Hazel had apparently learned strategy just as well as she had learned Dig or Shadow Ball so long ago; using the momentum of the Quick Attack, she spun around blindly on a paw, her own grey-stained tail colliding unexpectedly with Flareon before the eeveelution had a chance to move.

It was sent sprawling, ash eddying about it before settling around its prone form. Hazel snarled, her ears back in a gesture of good-natured hostility, her head lowered with fatigue and paws set sturdily on the ground to hold her weight. Her white ruff, blackened and glowing with residual cinders, bristled in preparation, but the flareon just twitched, its paws moving slowly and ineffectively. The match was over.

"Yes!"Keegan shrieked, pumping a fist in the air, having completely forgotten about the hankie she still clutched. _Yes yes yesyesyesyesyesyes!_

With a weary—if satisfied—sigh, Hazel sat, tucking her grimy tail around herself and licking her paw; she hated being dirty.

She didn't get a chance to clean herself, however, because Keegan had pounded onto the field and scooped her up with a twirl and a true, belly-deep laugh, something she hadn't done in far too long. "You were awesome, Haze!"

_I think I know why people find this fun._

"This isn't the way it's supposed to happen!" a redheaded girl on the sidelines whined, and Keegan whirled around to look at her with a beaming grin and an adrenaline-pumped motion with Hazel's pokéball, tucking the eevee up under her arm.

"I'm not complaining!" she said with a laugh, all her troubles suddenly a million light-years away. _It's funny how things seem so much better when something good happens!_

"Where did you come from?" Tynan's voice cut across any retort the redhead might have made, Flareon's pokéball having just fwapped back into his hand from when he'd returned it. He was staring intensely at Keegan as though looking for something, his brow furrowed in thought or anger, she wasn't sure.

_He doesn't really seem angry, though._ "I'm from Alto Mare!" Keegan said brightly, even though she really wasn't, but that was neither here nor there considering she didn't really know where she'd come from in the first place.

"_Bubui!"_ Hazel huffed, squeezing her way out of Keegan's grasp and jumping lightly to the ground.

"Oh, sorry. _We're_ from Alto Mare, then." The blonde-haired girl bounced down Hazel's pokéball to return her in a flash of light, holding it up to her face for a moment. "Remind me to buy you some pokétreats," she promised the eevee, and the ball wriggled momentarily in affirmative delight.

"You can't get to Celadon from Alto Mare," Tynan said flatly, minimising Flareon's pokéball, and Keegan blinked.

"Um, no?" she offered, confused as to his meaning.

"Then where else have you been?" Tynan asked impatiently, crossing his arms over his dust-tinted white shirt.

_Why does he want to know?_ Keegan wondered. The young man wasn't being as haughty as before, but he wasn't exactly being friendly, either. "Cianwood, Olivine, and then Ecruteak, Goldenrod, and now here."

"I see." A thoughtful look came to Tynan's eyes, but he didn't look away or elaborate on what, exactly, he was seeing, and Keegan stared at him, confused. She was coming down off her high, now, and remembering what Erika had told her to do: leave Celadon.

_Better get on that now, I guess._ "Thanks for the battle," she said awkwardly. "But I gotta leave. Maybe I'll see you again if I come back this way."

"Oh, I doubt that," Tynan smirked.

_Eheh, freaky…_ Keegan smiled nervously, then threw a cheeky grin and a wave at the huffy brown-haired girl and turned to walk toward the entry doors, uncomfortably aware of Tynan's calculating eyes on her back the whole way there.

She was so concerned with the eyes of the trainer, she missed the scarlet pair that gleamed at her faintly from between the bushes against the wall.

* * *

Erika strode up the cobblestone path leading to the University, her brow furrowed in thought. If they were lucky, she could squeeze in another half-hour or so with her battling class, although she couldn't guarantee her full attention; not with plans to secure the Game Corner, her conversation with Bill, and that girl—Keegan, Bill called her—all on her mind.

If she was exceptionally lucky Keegan won't have left yet; the students of that particular class tended towards the rich and spoiled, and outsiders coming in to disrupt their lives tended to garner some negative attention, so they may well have stopped her.

_I told her she wasn't in danger!_ the gym leader sighed to herself, hardly hearing the greeting of a departing professor as she passed him to enter the University's main hall. And as far as Erika knew, she wasn't. But that was also before she'd remembered her.

From the moment she laid eyes on the girl she'd known she knew her from somewhere, but couldn't for the life of her recall where. And then when she heard her story, the gym leader had been more concerned with making sure the Game Corner was being watched—

_Being watched by my own people, because the Rockets were more right than they knew, and the existence of a lab in Celadon—in _my_ city—can only mean that the law, somewhere, somehow, has failed._

—and with hearing from Bill what had happened not only to the agent the Goldenrod police had apprehended, but the one who had escaped as well.

_There's been no sign of that one; it's a good bet he's already made contact with his people, or he's on his way back here. If he is, I'll know._ She'd put people on the Magnet Station as well, as a precaution, and Officer Jenny, who was about the only police officer in Celadon that Erika trusted, had offered to speak to her cousins—but there were only so many Officer Jennys in the world and not all of them were in a position of authority.

_But if he is on the train, he's likely to go straight through to Saffron instead. And there, I have no authority._

Dead end, in other words.

With everything arranged, there wasn't much more for Erika to do unless she wanted to take an active role, and her people wouldn't allow her to do that. So instead here she was, wending her way beneath the stairwells towards the open doors leading to the courtyard, once again reflecting on the conversation she'd had with Morty less than a week before.

She'd seen on the news that the Tin Tower had been broken into and had rung to make sure nothing was amiss; Morty had reassured her that everything was under control, but he seemed preoccupied, distracted. It hadn't taken much to get the whole story out of him, including all that hadn't been publicly released.

There had been other people involved: Morty's childhood friend, Eusine, and a girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a pendant made from a firestone. Mentions of them had been deliberately withheld for security reasons, but when Morty told her who he thought the intruders were…

_Team Aqua,_ Erika thought with an inward grimace as she stepped onto grass from the open doors. _As if we don't have enough to take care of._

Unfortunately their obsession with finding the Legendary Kyogre had clouded Morty's reading of their emblem; he hadn't been able to See what they were looking for in Johto, and the fact they'd been in the resting place of a part _fire_ pokémon had just confused him.

There had been something else on his mind, too, but it was something he flatly refused to tell her, saying it wasn't either of their businesses. Erika could only wonder if it had something to do with the girl.

The girl that Erika was now absolutely certain had just paid her a visit.

Erika didn't disbelieve in coincidence, but she did believe in making informed decisions. If she could catch the girl before she left, she could warn her about the Aquas. Maybe it would spur some unwanted questions from the curious young woman, but she'd be a good deal safer knowing what was out there, whether they were planning to come after her or not.

Besides, considering how she'd helped hold back the Aquas and then been willing to jump into the fire against the Rockets to save her pokémon—it was people like that who were a joy to work with. Erika wouldn't be surprised if someone approached her for that purpose sometime in the future.

She reached her class just as the battle ended, catching only the flash of red light as pokémon were returned, standing on the edge of the crowd and letting the chatter of the students' discussions wash over her as she looked them over for a head of thick blonde hair. _She's not here. Well, that solves that, I suppose._

"Lady Erika!" one of the students exclaimed, catching sight of her, and the gym leader cut short her fruitless search to turn towards the meticulously dressed girl who'd called out. "We thought you weren't going to be back in time!"

Erika offered the brown-haired student a tiny smile, drawing the attention of the rest of the class. "I wasn't sure either, Alyssa, but here I am. You may continue battling as you have; I'll just watch for now." She paused for a moment, letting the next battlers step up before speaking quietly to Alyssa. "I take it our visitor has left?"

Alyssa sneered, tossing her shiny hair over her shoulder in contempt. "She left ages ago, and good riddance, too." Erika restrained the urge to sigh. It was true that Alyssa was very hardworking; her assignments were legendary among the staff for their length, depth, and exceptional research. Unfortunately, she was the most popular girl in class, not to mention one of the richest, which meant she was one of the leaders.

And all that meant that she could be unbelievably catty.

Then the girl's brow furrowed and she raised a hand to touch her cheek in reluctant, irritable thought. "She _was_ a good battler, though."

_And willing to give someone their due._ Erika reminded herself with a small smile. "Oh? Did she battle someone?"

"Yeah, Tynan challenged her. She beat him."

Erika's eyebrows shot skyward, even as she thought that she shouldn't really be so surprised—the girl had managed to stop one of the Rockets from escaping, after all, even if it had only been through the other operative's cowardice that she and Bill had won the battle. But Tynan was one of her best students; as far as she knew, he hadn't lost a battle. Now that was no longer true, she had to wonder what he was thinking.

And that was when the gym leader realized that she'd never seen the familiar head of turquoise curls upon her examination of the class. "Where is Tynan?"

Alyssa bit her lip, looking around at her classmates as they cheered on the sleek brown-and-white linoone which had just pounded its adversary into the ground, raising a cloud of dust. "I don't know. He left—after that girl did. After she beat him. He stared after her for a while, announced that there wasn't anything more he could learn here, and then just left. I don't know where he went."

_Now that's interesting,_ Erika thought. Tynan was cut from the same mould as Alyssa—rich family, a strong sense of self-worth, and enough confidence to choke a persian. But where Alyssa worked hard to earn her right to brag, Tynan hardly seemed to work at all, and yet still remained as the class' top battler.

Erika would have half expected him to throw a tantrum if he ever lost, but what Alyssa said suggested that he'd realized something that Erika spent some of each term's first lecture stating: there was no substitute for experience.

_If he has left to begin travelling himself, I can only imagine how he will take the hardships—and wonder what he would be like if he were to pass through Celadon again._

That was when the battle ended in a whirlwind of dust and debris with the powerful beats of the pidgeotto's wings, and Erika shunted all other considerations from her mind to step forward and critique the battlers' forms.

The last, fleeting thought she had was the hope that neither Keegan nor Tynan chose to go south.

* * *

Quietly Tynan closed his bedroom door behind him, shutting off the sound of his father's voice. The old man was on the phone—again. He was always on the phone, business tycoon that he was. This time it was something about buying up some stocks in that Hoenn company, Devon Corporation. Tynan had had to sneak into the house to make sure the man didn't realize he'd cut class—as long as he thought Tynan was at the University, he wouldn't try to involve him in the business.

Philip Montgomery had been a trainer himself, once, but that was a long time ago, before his wife had died. Now all he was interested in was money, and determined that Tynan would go the same way. He hadn't been too unhappy with Tynan's talent in training, nor his interest, but he had forbidden Tynan to go 'gallivanting about the countryside', as he put it, and at that time Tynan had been inclined to agree. The thought of traipsing through mud and rain, camping in forests, hadn't really appealed to him; there was something to be said for creature comforts.

Now, the teen looked around his huge room: the thick, elegant furnishings, the broad windows along one wall, the draping curtains of his four-post bed, the books lying on the floor around his desk and stacked on the shelves, the paper strewn over the tabletop. It was comfortable. It was familiar.

_And I'm really considering leaving it all? I've spent so long building up my life, my reputation—Da always says your reputation is important—_

But Tynan didn't care so much for his reputation as for his reputation being _right_. If people were going to say good things about him he wanted them to be true.

People said good things about Erika, and she had a demeanour which so many of the girls tried to emulate—grace and wisdom, a kind of worldliness which Tynan had always assumed came from being highborn.

But that girl—Keegan, Tynan had learned upon looking at the visitor's book—hadn't been graceful, or particularly wise or commanding; hell, half the time it seemed like her eevee was the one in charge. And yet… and yet, that look in her eyes, just after he'd challenged her. At first so confused, almost scared, and he'd been so certain she'd try to back out—then suddenly, for only an instant, her eyes had looked so much older than she was, just before it was obscured by a spark of defiance.

For a moment he'd felt like a little boy again, watching from his seat as experienced trainers fought for the right to the League Championship. Watching, and wondering whether he'd ever be up there himself, ever be that good, with that odd sort of undefinable confidence. He had to wonder what made them different, what secret they knew, to make them so confident.

His father wanted him to learn business, and culture, and politics.

Staring down at a page of his research notes, the meticulous handwriting that degenerated into a looping scrawl, Tynan knew he didn't want anything to do with politics or business. They bored him. Sure, it was fun, manipulating someone into humiliating themselves like he'd done so many times with those second-rate trainers—but the world didn't turn on words, it turned on power. Standing around and talking would never get anything done, not when the world depended upon the strength of pokémon. What good were words while Team Rocket was taking over half the economy through the fear of their retribution? What good were words when you were being charged at by a wild rhyhorn?

That girl had power. She'd gone places, and seen things, and she _knew._

Knowing was always power.

_And if I can find out what she knows—what Erika knows—Da failed as a pokémon trainer, he was good but never better than that, he never knew what they do._

_And if I can know it too… then I'll have made my own way, with my own power. I wouldn't be using his money, living in his house, on his sufferance…_

_Is that why so many trainers leave home so early? Free to forge their own paths, while we remain chained to our parents; our parents, who pay for expensive schooling, for our high-class food, for all our creature comforts…_

Somehow his hand had clenched on the desk-top, crumpling the page in his fist. _If that's what I have to give up to find out their secret, then so be it. Even if I don't know where to start, I've got someone to follow—I know where that girl went, thanks to my murkrow. She can be my trailblazer, until I know what I'm doing._

_Meanwhile I can train, in gyms, on roads, with wild pokémon—I can train, and then if I can fight her again, and beat her this time, then maybe… maybe I can know what she knows too._

He looked around once again at his opulent surroundings, the sound of pidgey chirping and ledyba humming floating through his open window. He took it all in for the last time, because come morning he was going to embark on a trip of his own; he was going to turn his back on everything his father and his companions represented and would take his first steps on his own path.

South… towards Fuchsia.

* * *

**A/N:** _I think everyone knows what a kimono is, but 'hakama' is a pair of pleated (or 'panelled', to use the correct term) trousers used by samurai while they're training._


	7. A Butterfree in the Hand

**A/N: **_This... should have been updated a long time ago. I'm not sure why it wasn't--I think it was a combination of sheer forgetfulness and being swamped by assignments every couple of weeks. In either case, here is the update... although I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, since I've been having trouble with it._

_All I can say is... 'sorry, and please don't keelhaul me'. (is sheepish)_

_EDITED (29/09/08)_

* * *

** VI **

**A BUTTERFREE IN THE HAND…**

A yelp.

It rang through the forest, making pokémon tilt their heads to listen or scamper back into the shielding undergrowth with a rustle of leaves. A curse followed soon after, punctuated by random mutterings and the distinct, feline-like titter of a pokémon, before they were both cut off by a semi-irritable shout.

"Stop laughing, Hazel!"

"_Bubui!"_

A flurry of spiky-feathered doduo burst from a patch of particularly thick foliage, making dewdrops scatter everywhere and leaves slap against the ground. A few seconds later they were followed, more slowly, by a certain blonde-haired girl clad in mud-stained jeans and a long-sleeved grey top, a slightly bedraggled eevee with an amused glint in her black eyes, and the swift blue form of a sleek vaporeon.

"It wasn't funny," Keegan whined, wiping her muddy hands off onto the cleanest patch of her jeans she could find, since her knees and shins were now grubby and grass-stained from her most recent tumble.

"_Bui,"_ was Hazel's only reply.

Keegan subsided with a huff into a quiet simmer of frustration, hitching her bag up onto her shoulder and pulling out her pokégear only to see the same green 'out of service area' screen she'd been seeing for the past few hours.

As far as she knew, she _should_ have been somewhere on the outskirts of Fuchsia City.

Obviously, she wasn't.

_This is going beyond funny,_ the girl grumped to herself, replacing her pokégear and watching Hazel's damp tail flick almost tauntingly in front of her.

She'd left Celadon behind her some days before, and with it, a sharp sense of foreboding. The thought that she was in the same city as the Rockets—that their lab was there—had given her shivers up until the point she finally walked past the city limits. She'd had a hard time deciding which direction to go, because the water and fire gyms were on completely different sides of the region, but eventually she had decided in favour of Cinnabar for several reasons.

First, she'd have to go on the ferry to get there, and she wanted to get that done as soon as possible. Second, going south before looping up north to Cerulean gave her more of an opportunity to see the rest of Kanto—the legends knew she'd spend enough time on the water, not to mention _had_ spent quite a bit of time being scared to death, so a bout of sightseeing would do her good. Plus, that time spent travelling would enable her to spend some time training, as Erika had suggested.

Third, circling up to Cerulean meant she could detour back through Celadon on her way to Vermillion, and that meant she could find out what had happened with the Celadon Game Corner.

Okay, so the last one was pure curiosity, but she couldn't resist.

The only problem was, she was having trouble actually _finding_ Fuchsia. The city was surrounded by thick forest, practically bordering on jungle in places, and she'd had to take some shortcuts in order to avoid the intimidating bikers who gathered along the verges of Cycling Road—with obvious and predictable results. _I should really know better by now._

On the bright side (metaphorically, at least, because the sky had been threatening rain for the past five days and followed through on it the evening before last) she hadn't seen a hide or hair of either the Rockets or those strange people in blue, and her fears had eased into slight twinges of paranoid worry whenever night began to settle.

It did help that she had other issues on her mind, Keegan thought as she glanced down at Tarn, brushing past some hanging leaves. The vaporeon slinked after her, his head swivelling this way and that alertly.

The girl sighed. In Goldenrod, she'd felt very hopeful about the vaporeon's acceptance of her, especially with the way he'd battled in the underground. After Celadon, she'd decided that the travel-time would be a good opportunity for him to get used to her, and maybe Firefoot too—he'd already seemed to bond pretty well with Hazel.

But when she'd released him he'd been unexpectedly guarded, almost as much as he'd been the very first time she let him out of his pokéball back in the park in Goldenrod. True, he hadn't been _afraid_ like he had been then and he did allow her to pet him on occasion—on 'special' occasions, like when she bought him some treats in an effort to precipitate more friendly terms—but otherwise he kept his distance and only seemed truly comfortable when Hazel was outside with him.

_At least he's better than he was._ In the beginning he'd stayed a good two feet away from her, and when he moved it had been in cautious stops and starts, practically crawling along with his belly to the ground even when Hazel walked beside him. Now, he still kept low, but it was with a swift, fluid movement that seemed more natural, almost slither-like, and he didn't stray far from the company like Firefoot did, who gambolled about as well as any six-foot canine could.

He also maintained a slightly wary eye on the blonde-haired girl, but for the most part his attention was focussed at the potential dangers of their surroundings, apparently having accepted Keegan and Firefoot as non-threatening, if not friends.

Which just brought Keegan to the other reason she wanted to be in Fuchsia already—as if being wet, muddy, tired, and running out of clean clothes because she'd spent half the last two nights struggling miserably to keep everything dry wasn't a good enough reason already.

Unfortunately it was that very rainstorm which had kept her from letting Firefoot get any exercise yesterday, drizzling as it had been the entire time. A metaphorical water-pup he may be, but getting splashed wasn't anywhere near the same as having several gallons of liquid dumped on you, especially not for a fire pokémon. At least at the Fuchsia City Pokémon Centre he'd be under cover, and keeping him in until they got there meant she wouldn't have to brush all the mud and sticks out of his ridiculously long fur. _I swear he's got longer fur than Hazel does now._

She'd even been forced to buy some new brushes for him, because the stiff-bristled one she had for Hazel, while appropriate for the small-bodied eevee, was too delicate for a creature of Firefoot's size, weight and thickness of coat. _I'm just glad that Tarn's short-haired. Remind me not to catch any more pokémon with fur!_

"_Bubui?"_

Keegan was brought out of her rather inane contemplation by Hazel's questioning tones, almost tripping over the delicate eevee before she realized that the pokémon had stopped. Instead the girl yelped, stumbled, and caught herself on a nearby tree, still wet from sap that a feeding heracross had brought to the surface before they'd crossed its path.

"Ha-zel!" Keegan groaned, levering herself upright and wiping the sticky residue onto her already filthy jeans. Hazel didn't even look over at her; her head was held high and long ears cocked forward attentively. Tarn came to a halt beside her, his finned ears twitching and paws kneading the ground in restless apprehension as he listened to whatever had captured her attention, his serpentine tail flicking this way and that.

All this alerted Keegan, and a pang of fear made her irritation evaporate. "What's wrong?"

"_Eebui!"_ Without warning Hazel broke her standstill and dashed into the thick underbrush, bounding over a mottled grey tree root as she went. With a resonant growl in response, Tarn followed, his slim body almost seeming to undulate through the mulch coating the forest floor.

"H— hey, wait up!" Impatiently tugging her bag more comfortably up onto her shoulder, Keegan chased after them both, raising a hand against the branches that swatted at her face, her legs already beginning to ache because of the uneven ground as she hurtled over roots and logs. Hazel's bobbing, white-tipped tail was just barely in view, Tarn's quick glide making him a blue shadow on brown and green.

It wasn't long before Keegan began to hear the deep boom of a waterfall, the sound echoing through the woods, growing louder and vibrating the ground beneath her feet. Abruptly the forest peeled away before her into sky and the girl staggered to a halt on the grassy edge of a short cliff, her chest heaving with gasping breaths and one hand clamped to the intermittent stitch in her side.

"_Vuubreen!"_

It was Tarn's distressed keen which caught her attention this time, and her eyes found the vaporeon just as Hazel darted in front of him, cutting off his headlong rush into the fast-moving river. Stumbling towards them with rubbery legs, Keegan saw, over their backs and through the white spray of the unseen pond below, a pair of scruffy men roughly jamming as many mesh cages as they could fit onto the back of their dirty truck, its wheels sinking into the soft turf beside the lake beneath its three-cage-high load. Contained within them were pokémon of all shapes and sizes: prickly-looking nidoran, polished pink exeggcute, even the dull, soft purples of a venomoth. Some were struggling furiously with the mesh, their eyes narrowed with rage and bloodlust—a victreebel puffed itself up, yellow body pulsing and broad leaves quivering with rage as it threw itself at the walls of its pen with a piercing shriek that cut through the roar of the falls—while others lay injured on the blood-soaked floor of their enclosures.

_They— they're hurting them—_

Keegan found herself shaking; in anger, in grief, in sick realization, her stomach twisting so sharply it made her breath catch and tears prick her eyes, one hand pressed to her mouth to keep herself to crying or screaming, she didn't know which. _I have to—I have to—_

_I have to play a game._

Before she'd thought anything more than that, her hands were fumbling for the pokéballs at her waist, pulling first Tarn's and then Hazel's from her belt. "You guys—I've gotta—"

She hadn't even finished, but Hazel was already in front of her, tail swishing urgently, and Keegan obeyed her unspoken command before turning to the vaporeon crouched at the muddy, overflowing bank and holding up the pokéball in silent request. For a moment Tarn stared at her, tail lashing the air, skating across water; then he moved, one paw in front of another, away from the river.

He had just vanished into red light, the pokéball snapping shut around him, when there came a shrill, resonating cry from the woods below.

"_Frii friii!"_

_What the—_

Keegan instinctively ducked, scrambling towards the edge in time to see a blue and white blur burst out of the trees, knocking the startled, skinny man wearing a green beanie aside before colliding with the stack of cages with a sickening crunch. The pile shifted with the scrape and shriek of metal, several of the enclosures on the opposite end toppling off with protesting screeches from steel and pokémon alike.

As the man picked himself up, his vest and threadbare jeans now mud-stained and his heavy brow overshadowing squinty eyes in a deep scowl, his more portly companion swore fiercely. "It's that damned butterfree again!"

Scarlet compound eyes screwed up with determination, the butterfree swooped down on the truck a second time, long toes trailing, while the cages on the ground rocked, the pokémon inside struggling to get free.

The thickset man with the flaxen thatch of hair expanded a grubby-looking pokéball, releasing a pokémon atop the cages with that familiar warp of red light. The thick purple sludge that was a grimer rose up, black maw gaping and its formless paws reaching for the butterfree.

"_Frii!"_

With a twist of its lavender-coloured body and a tilt of its broad, black-veined wings, the butterfly pokémon banked sharply, narrowly missing the sludge as it melted back into a formless shape, ooze slapping against the surface of the cages and dripping between the mesh. Even from the cliff Keegan could smell it, forcing her to take a deep breath through her mouth or risk gagging.

_Okay, so we're not the only ones trying to get these guys free, but the butterfree can't go at this alone—_

Keegan looked down to the expanded pokéball still in her fist, at the shape of the vaporeon distorted by the thick red surface. "You want to help," she whispered. "So do I. I'll do my best, if you do yours."

It wasn't exactly what she wanted to say—she wanted to comfort him, to try and convince him that she wasn't really that bad a trainer, to make sure that he would fight as earnestly as he had that day in Goldenrod, whatever his reasons had been for doing so then—but it was as close as she was gonna get, the words failing in her mouth. Instead she rose up on her knees, drew back one arm, and lobbed the pokéball as far and as accurately as she could towards the truck, over the head of the scrawny poacher as he hurriedly shoved crates back onto the vehicle's bed and lashed them down using wiry rope. With a loud thud the pokéball bounced off the roof of the cab, splitting open and unleashing Tarn onto the muddy, dusty surface. _Yes!_

"What the f—"

Porky caught sight of Keegan, crouched at the height of the waterfall with the gleam of a second pokéball expanding between her fingers, her blonde hair and grey shirt damp with spray. His bulging eyes narrowed and he snarled, showing yellowed teeth, but he and his companion were abruptly distracted as his grimer was caught in a crossfire between a Water Gun and a Gust attack. Liquid splattered over the ground, lashing at any and all uncovered flesh as the squall cast it about, leaving the grimer clinging desperately to its perch with dissolving appendages.

"Damn it all!" The gaunt man hissed in frustrated urgency, shielding his face from the wind, water and sludge as he snatched up the pokéball hanging from the front of his vest and pitched it towards the cab. It exploded into red light with the crack of a releasal, shaping into the squat form of a pink-skinned lickitung.

"Get that bloody thing!" Gaunt hollered, gesturing violently at Tarn as the pokémon jumped aside to avoid a barrage of messy sludge bombs, the brown droplets splattering everywhere behind… and as Firefoot materialized on the matted turf.

"_Arrcth!"_ the arcanine howled, launching himself at the lickitung with his teeth bared and orange fur bristling wildly in a mane around his head. Startled, Tarn jerked around, the mud and water making him slide precariously on the grimy roof—right into the thick, slimy tongue which snapped around him and squeezed. An instant later Firefoot cannoned into the lickitung and sent it flying, causing its tongue to lash the air like a whip with Tarn on the end.

The butterfree's Whirlwind hit the truck with all the force of an act of nature, sending the vehicle into a vicious three-sixty-degree spin. Tyres kicked up waves of mud, steel groaned in complaint, and the windows cracked beneath the stones and debris pelting the glass. The poachers threw themselves to the side to avoid it, but Firefoot was knocked over by an explosion of mud, staining his fur brown. At the same time, the lickitung kicked its stubby legs and heaved itself to its feet, hurling Tarn violently aside.

He rocketed over the top of the truck, was caught momentarily by the howling winds, before blasting from the hurricane like a stone from a slingshot, colliding brutally with the butterfree. They hit the ground hard at the same time as Keegan, the girl dropping her bag as her legs collapsed from her hurried descent, her arms and face scratched by the hard rock of the cliff and the unbandaged scabs on her wrist weeping slightly with the effort.

Creaking horribly, the truck skidded to a complete stop as the winds dissipated, now resembling nothing more than a gigantic, screeching pile of mud and debris, with purple gloop mixed in.

For a split second it seemed as though time stood still as everyone gathered themselves in the wake of the Whirlwind: Keegan, Tarn and the poachers staggered to their feet, the butterfree fluttered dazedly into an unsteady hover a foot above the ground, the stunned grimer gathered itself from atop its perch, and Firefoot struggled against the muck that sucked at his paws.

Then the lickitung lashed out at Firefoot, binding one paw with its tongue to wrench him into the air in a splatter of mud, and the clearing once again became a rush of action.

"Tarn, Water Gun 'em!" Keegan shouted, pointing sharply towards the poachers as she pushed herself off the bit of cliff she'd been using as a support and made a dash for the cages, leaving her bag where it was in relative safety.

"_Vuubuuun!"_ Tarn darted beneath her feet to get around the truck and drew in a deep breath to obey, liquid beginning to gurgle in his throat.

"Sludge Bomb!" Porky roared to his grimer, stumbling in the direction of the vehicle, and the ooze that was sloshing over the tops of the cages peaked into a semblance of a head, opening into wide jaws.

Before the grimer could complete the move, the cage rattled under yet another ferocious wind from the butterfree, making Keegan's hair and debris whip her eyes and mud splatter over the hems of her jeans. The girl flinched and jerked away from the Gust, automatically raising an arm to cover her head even as she worked at a thick knot of rope tying down the cages.

Unhindered, Tarn fired a watery torrent towards the poachers, just as the lickitung brought Firefoot down with all its strength. The ground's momentary tremor was enough to make Tarn stumble and the Water Gun went wide, catching only Porky in the side in an explosion of spray and sending him skidding and spluttering back to the ground with a thud.

A second later the vaporeon was forced to twist aside to dodge Gaunt's vicious kick as the poacher ran past, headed straight for Keegan. Tarn hesitated for a moment, torn between Porky's snarling face and Gaunt's vested back; then his decision was made for him in the form of a barrage of sludge bombs which blasted the ground around him, making him leap backward in surprise—away from the truck.

Keegan had just worked loose one knot, her fingers numbed and grazed by the coarse rope, when rough hands grabbed her arms and wrenched her violently away from the cages. "Shit!" she cursed in explosive surprise, stumbling to keep her balance from the abrupt change in position and automatically jerking away from the tight grip.

She didn't expect the man to actually let go.

The girl tripped over her own feet and hit ground with a mud-splattering, breath-stealing thump, a spark of pain up her arms and ribs marking their complaint. She lifted her head in time to see Gaunt draw back one foot to kick her in the side, and instinctively flinched away.

_Gonna hurt—_

"_Brii!"_

The butterfree plummeted out of the sky, eyes and antenna flashing blue. The Confusion slammed into Gaunt's mind like a sledgehammer against a brick wall, making the poacher stagger back, swearing harshly and gripping his temples. He would have been knocked down a second later by the pokémon's Tackle, except for the gobbet of sludge which splacked across the butterfree's wings, the grimer's head already melting into the dripping, formless mess after its attack. The butterfree jerked violently, tumbling on its own slipstream to the ground with a shrill cry of pain, wings stained purple by the acidic goo.

"Little nuisance!" Gaunt hissed angrily, still holding one hand to his head as he lifted his foot to bring it down on the butterfree's delicate wings.

_No—!_ Keegan jolted into action, one hand flashing to a spare pokéball at her belt, hurling it at the butterfree struggling, with scrunched up eyes, to move away. _Return—_

A second later, as the butterfree dissolved into red light, Keegan remembered that she didn't actually own it, but then Gaunt's boot crunched on the muddy turf beside the pokéball, the shift of the ground making it roll towards Keegan.

_Too late now—_

She snatched it up just as it locked down with a ping, scrambling to her feet and getting a quick glimpse of the rest of the battlefield as she turned around to run.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught the burst of flames Firefoot had just aimed at the lickitung, then the sweep of mud the pink pokémon raised with its tongue to block the fire, splattering over Firefoot's already filthy coat, weighing the arcanine down even more.

She saw Tarn as he sank his small fangs into Porky's ankle, eliciting an almost amusingly girlish shriek and a spew of curses, the poacher's automatic kick catching the vaporeon in the ribs and sending him sprawling as the man limped hurriedly towards the driver's side of the cab.

Then she felt an iron grip seize her wrist and yank her back, eliciting a twinge from her shoulder. Unthinkingly the girl whirled around to backhand the scrawny poacher with the closed fist still clutching the butterfree's pokéball.

It felt like something had exploded in her hand and wrist, but the girl was so far beyond the point of thinking that she didn't even register it; not until after she'd jerked her other hand away from the poacher, who fell back dazedly, hand going to cup his bloodied nose.

It took moment before Keegan realized that the half-sob, half-groan had come from her, her injured limb already cradled against her chest even as she staggered away, her throbbing fingers feeling as though they were locked around the pokéball.

_Need help—need Hazel—best battler, know what to do—_

Or so her fragmented thoughts went, swirling around in her overwhelmed mind.

She never managed to put thought to action, however, because her attention was caught by an urgent yowl from Tarn, right before she was hit by something that felt like a car.

It may as well have been. For the second time in as many minutes, Keegan hit the ground, this time on her back and with a bone-jarring blow that made her head swim, leaving her gasping for air and momentarily paralysed. Firefoot twisted his body just enough so that he fell mostly on the matted grass and not his trainer, skidding a short furrow in the muddy lawn and rolling against the girl's arm.

_OhGodcan'tbreathe—_

Panic slammed into Keegan as her complaining lungs refused to take in air, curling in on herself, one hand clenching in Firefoot's long fur. It was only a second or two, but it felt like an eternity before she could take deep, shuddering breaths.

"Sludge Bomb!"

The command was distant to her ringing ears and the girl couldn't have moved to avoid it anyway, but she did manage to push herself up just enough to see over Firefoot's back as a swirling ring of frost and ice flurried the space between them and the truck, freezing the aforementioned bombs in midair. They smashed into useless icicles on the ground, and Tarn had just leapt for the poacher leaning unsteadily against the truck when a long, muscular tongue lashed out to catch him, wrapping him up like a meowth on a string.

"Tarn," Keegan croaked anxiously as Firefoot managed to stagger to his feet, standing over her protectively with his long fur dripping and lips rolled back over his canine in a snarl.

The truck's engine rumbled and roared to life, followed by Porky's victorious yell.

_We're losing…_

"You," Gaunt snarled. "Have been damned nuisances."

_C'mon, gotta move, gotta move, gotta move… _Keegan pulled herself up using Firefoot as a support, hardly listening to the poacher's words; her conscious mind had stopped working some time ago, and right now all she was thinking that she needed reinforcements, she needed Hazel, as she groped at her belt for the eevee's pokéball.

Something flashed, cutting the air between them. Almost instantaneously the lickitung shrieked in pain, its tongue bucking violently enough to toss Tarn up into the air, but Keegan didn't understand why until she saw the blood that cascaded over the slimy surface.

"What—"

The object—_a pokéball—_rebounded off the cages, opening with a burst and releasing a purple golbat in the same instant that two other pokémon dematerialized into red light, one in midair and the other sitting, shuddering, on the grass.

"Supersonic!" a calm, slightly harsh voice ordered. The bat opened its huge mouth, fangs glistening, and let out a shattering, drawn-out screech which rippled the air, pressuring everything that heard it into the ground, stealing their breath, making their heads pound. Keegan clutched at her ears with both her filled hands, burying her head in Firefoot's fur, scrunching up against the shaking arcanine even as he whined, unheard, for the pain in his head.

Abruptly it ended, leaving nothing but ringing in their ears—at least until Keegan lifted her face and her vision swam dizzyingly.

A second later she almost choked on a horrible stench, what she could see of the surroundings taking on a vaguely purple haze as the panicked grimer oozed a thick cloud of gas from its every pore. The girl turned away from it, pressing her dirty sleeve to her nose to avoid breathing it in. She heard the slam of a door, then the squelch of tires on mud and the roar of the engine as the truck fled, spraying mud all over her and Firefoot.

After that there was only the sound of beating wings, and slowly the fog cleared.

Coughing, Keegan pushed herself up, one elbow braced against Firefoot. Even then, it took a moment before she realized that he was shivering violently, his body heaving as he choked, the foam already bubbling from his mouth tainted purple.

_Oh no, no, no no no—_

"Shit, shit, shit shit shit—" Keegan cursed, her eyes pricking with frustrated, helpless tears as she replaced Tarn's pokéball so she'd have a spare hand, clenching a fistful of the arcanine's fur. "Hang on, I'll get some—I've got some—hang on—"

_Thank God, thank God, if nothing else I'm prepared for that—_

_Thank Pete, he was the one obsessed with being prepared._

She was just about to push herself up onto unsteady feet when a flask dropped by her leg, making her jump and flinch, the fist still clutching the butterfree's pokéball automatically lashing out to throw it—except that her fingers twinged when she flexed her hand, making her hiss.

Instead she craned her head to look up at the tall black-haired man who had approached on silent feet, his face lean and slanted eyes narrow. "Make him drink that," he ordered, turning away to catch his golbat as the pokémon flared to a halt to perch on his armguard, the end of the long red scarf around his neck fluttering over his shoulder.

_Should I, should I not—I know I have some, can I trust him?_

_What the hell. It means I don't have to walk to my bag, and I'm tired of being suspicious all the time…_

Keegan fumbled with the container, one-handedly flicking aside the cap and awkwardly forcing open Firefoot's jaws to give him the yellow-hued antidote. The arcanine choked, spitting half of it out and coating Keegan' fingers in slime, but he managed to gulp down enough of it that his shivers soon subsided, shaking off the sick tinge his fur had taken.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," Keegan breathed, her voice breaking as she gave the arcanine a one-handed hug before turning to look up again at the thin stranger.

_Not a stranger. I know him from somewhere._

He was dressed in a rather old-fashioned uniform, a dark olive-green in colour and inherently loose in style aside from the long-sleeved, mesh-textured shirt he wore beneath the short-sleeved tunic and where the hems of his pants were held in by his high boots. _Looks almost like something an old-day samurai would wear._

A second later her breath caught in realization, her eyes widening as she watched him frown after the truck, absently stroking the golbat on the head. _Or a ninja._

_That's Koga, the Fuchsia City gym leader!_

That's when he turned, his dark eyes meeting hers, and Keegan shivered with the chill that ran down her back.

"Well?" he asked impatiently with a raised eyebrow. "Have you finished interfering? Or would you like to impede my capture of those poachers a second time? Come now, there's no hurry, I have all the time in the world."

_He was—he was after them?_

_And I—_

_Oh._

Keegan flushed and dropped her gaze under his scathingly sarcastic tones. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I just—I just—"

"I would suggest," the ninja cut in flatly. "That you end your Safari Game immediately and return to Fuchsia City." The golbat screeched, flapping its leathery wings as though to punctuate its trainer's words; then with a tiny jerk he released it, letting it zip into the air with an odd, meandering flight-path. Without another glance at Keegan he followed its general direction, running with sure, silent steps into the trees.

For a moment Keegan stared after him, a little shocked by his abrupt departure, her stomach twisting with embarrassment. Then she looked at Firefoot, whose ears were half back in uncertainty. "I guess we know where we are now," the girl said a little weakly. She was just becoming aware of the fact that her clothes were almost completely mud-stained, clinging her to her wetly; her hair was clumped together by dirt, her fringe hanging in straggles around her face; her entire body was one huge, aching muscle.

But all of them were sensations she was somewhat used to. With her habit of playing games with Ross and their pokémon, she was used to straining herself, especially after she began travelling; in Alto Mare, it was common to get splashed and wet. The mud was new, but the rest was easy enough to put aside.

And put it aside she did. She had to, because she still didn't know where the hell she was—her general location of the Safari Zone was all well and good, but she didn't know which direction she was supposed to be going in.

That was when the pokéball in her hand rattled, and wearily Keegan lifted it to blink dumbly at the butterfree inside, who had apparently recovered its energy enough to attack the sides of the device. It buzzed furiously inside, tiny claws moving, antenna bobbing, as it motioned in the direction of the truck.

"You want to go after them?" Keegan asked uncertainly, and the pokéball rocked in confirmation, the butterfree doing a twirl of approval inside.

_Of course we want to go after them,_ 'little fox' snapped. _The game's not over yet, and we were losing. We can't just give up halfway._

_Oh. Yeah. But Koga said to go._

_Since when have you obeyed the orders of a stranger, and a freaky stranger at that? I don't like leaving things unfinished, I want to know what's going on, I am not going to let a pair of stupid poachers beat me, not after the Rockets._

_But we messed up his plans…_

_We didn't know. Maybe we can make amends by going to help. Besides, if nothing else following the poachers gives us a direction. They need to get out of the Safari Zone somehow, right? Maybe we can get out the same way._

Keegan hesitated, looking around at the thundering waterfall, ignored until that moment; at the muddy bog that the pond-banks had become; the trees, sparse as the clearing opened up before becoming nothing more than a blur of green in the distance.

And the twin tracks, vanishing off into the thinnest part of the woods in a slew of mud and grass.

It was the only thing she had to go on.

There was no other way to go.

And if she did see them again, and found herself with an opportunity, how could she, in good conscience, pass it up?

_Well, I guess that decides things. _With a sigh the girl staggered to her feet, brushing ineffectually at her filthy clothes, prying the butterfree's pokéball out of her fist with winces and soft curses at her twinging hand.

"Firefoot, I know you're tired, but can you track that truck?" she asked apologetically. _Maybe Koga'll have caught them by then and I can ask directions, at the very least._

"_Nnnnrth,"_ Firefoot snorted confidently, heaving himself to his feet as his mistress retrieved her bag, hauling it up onto her shoulder with her uninjured hand. She still cradled the other one close, even though the throbbing had died down into a faintly numb buzz, as long as she didn't move her fingers too much. Then she looked back in the direction of the tracks, knowing that if she saw the poachers she would wind up getting herself in trouble yet again.

_Guess that's why they call me the little fox,_ she mused idly, briefly touching her pendant for good luck before trudging after the arcanine who was bounding into the forest.

* * *

_I cannot believe I'm doing this._

Keegan slid further down the ridge against which she lay, the damp ground soft beneath her weight, soaking into her filthy clothes. The truck was just over the rim, parked at the base of the short, sloping hill on the bank of a wide lake. It wasn't difficult to hear the clamour erupting from the cages on the back, but it overshadowed the poachers' voices so she only caught a few words whenever they spoke.

Words such as 'nuisance', 'they', 'ship' and 'Koga'.

_Guess I was right about that…_

Carefully she peeked over the crest again. Both the men were waiting edgily by the truck, Porky checking the watch on his thick wrist while Gaunt tapped impatiently on the tailgate, looking out over the grey water through the bruises that were purpling across his face. The sight of said bruises made Keegan feel a brief pang of satisfaction, hastily squashed.

The girl's eyes shifted from side to side as she visually scouted the tree-line, but she didn't see any hint of Koga's presence, not that she seriously expected to. He was a ninja, for God's sake.

Still, she fingered the butterfree's pokéball nervously, now attached to her belt along with all the others. She hadn't had a chance to name it—_her, she's a her—_yet, but that was the first thing on her 'to do' list as soon as she got to the warm, dry Pokémon Centre.

For all that, it was the butterfree she was relying on. She didn't want to bring Firefoot or Tarn out unless absolutely necessary, injured as they were, but she also wanted to avoid a battle if she could. She remembered Goldenrod; sleeping powder was effective as hell. If it worked once, it would work twice, so even though the butterfree wasn't exactly in the shape to fly more than a couple of feet, she had powder in abundance.

_But only if there's no other choice,_ Keegan reminded herself. She didn't particularly want to draw Koga's attention again—just thinking about that icy lack of expression in his eyes gave her chills—but she simply could not turn around and walk away without knowing how this would end—that it _would_ end.

So while the poachers watched the lake, so did she, waiting for whatever sign they were, anxiously scanning the trees for Koga, reinforcements, _anyone._

_Someone has to be here,_ she thought worriedly. _He said he was going to capture them, he has to be here… so where is he?_

Gaunt whacked his companion on the arm, his eyes riveted on the lake as he gestured in its direction, and both Porky and Keegan turned towards the water. There, drawing nearer, was a small, flat-decked barge, cruising beneath the grey skies.

Keegan's stomach tightened, her gaze shifting frantically from tree to tree is search of the elusive ninja. _He's still not here. What do I do? They're going to get away!_

For several long seconds she agonised over the approaching boat, absently flexing her aching hand to massage the stiffness out of it in case she needed to use it—although she doubted it would be much help, it was difficult to move it—and unfastening then refastening the butterfree's pokéball from her belt in uncertainty.

By the time the boat was close enough for her to see the distorted figure through the glass of the control booth and the poachers had begun moving to prepare the truck for transport, she couldn't take it anymore. _Gotta do something._ She snatched the butterfree's pokéball up, sitting back on her heels to pitch it down the hill. For the second time that day, a pokéball sailed over the oblivious poachers' heads, although this one missed the cab and instead rebounded off the mud-streaked bars of the top layer of cages.

It burst open in a swirling cascade of sparkling green powder, dousing the two men in its glittering waves before they had become fully aware of its presence. Both of them drooped to the ground, one slumping against the rail of the truck's bed and the other sprawled out on the damp grass not far away, the cacophony of captured pokémon punctuated by loud snores.

The butterfree landed on the topmost cages, wings moving weakly but scarlet eyes ablaze with satisfied glee, tiny claws waving in triumph. Keegan let out a relieved breath, pushing herself up to scramble over the ridge and down the slope, casting an anxious look towards the ferry. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a figure on the deck, but they didn't seem to be looking her way and she sped up, clamping Bill's handkerchief to her face as she kicked up the glittering dust, stepping around the sleeping men.

She didn't see the few specks of rain drizzling down from the gloomy sky.

"Keep watch," Keegan hurriedly instructed the butterfree, head turning once again towards the boat, trying to judge the distance between it and the shore before giving up. _They're so close, though. I don't think I'll have time—not unless—_

_Not unless you take the entire truck._

_Oh boy._

Dashing towards the cab, Keegan peered in through the cracked window, trying to see past the spider-web fractures dotting the glass. She just managed to catch a glimpse of the keys dangling from the dashboard before two things happened.

One was a distant, warning shout, making her jerk in surprise towards the lake, only to swear heavily when she saw the figure on deck pointing towards shore and calling out to his companions.

The other was an ominous rumble as the sky dumped an ocean of rain on top of them.

Keegan jolted, shocked, as the cold water hit her like a ton of bricks, instantly soaking her to the skin, the liquid pouring off her weatherproof bag in rivulets. The butterfree trilled in irritation, shaking her wings in an attempt to keep them from becoming sodden, and Keegan dug at her waist for the pokéball she'd replaced there, hastily returning the pokémon as the sound of a groan filtered through the noise of the rain on the lake, pattering over the grass.

_Oh, shit—_

Keegan scrabbled for the door handle, her back prickling with awareness as the rain washed away the sleep powder, the chill waking the poachers behind her. She tugged open the door, sliding into the driver's seat and tossing her soaked bag onto the passenger's as a shout cut through the downpour. Frantically she thumped down on the locks as Porky's snarling, saturated face appeared at the window, shouting profanities at her through the cracked glass.

_Step one: get in car accomplished._

_Step two: turn car on._

Brushing wet hair out of her eyes with shaking hands, Keegan fumbled the seatbelt into its nook before twisting the key, making the ring jangle with the movement. The engine roared, her heart leapt with hope… right before it spluttered and died.

_You've got to be kidding!_

Stomach tight with urgency, her eyes flickered to the grim-faced scrawny man outside the door, his beanie soaked with rain and water trickling down his sallow, bruised face, having replaced his companion and now focussed on some unknown task which would no doubt end up with an unlocked door.

_Not good. Come on, step two…_

Swallowing through her heart in her mouth, Keegan turned the key again and again, her frayed nerves winding tighter and tighter until the truck finally rumbled to life.

_Finally! Now for step three: figure out how the hell to drive car._

_Not to mention not kill myself in the process of driving it…!_

She pressed her foot randomly down on a pedal, gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles went white and her bad hand twinged. The truck surged forward abruptly, wheels spurting on the muddy grass, and she just saw the poacher jump back with a curse before she was past, water leaving streaks on the glass, the landscape a grey blur outside the windows.

A second later something loomed out of the darkness in front of her and with a terrified oath she yanked on the wheel, swerving aside before she hit it. Another dark shape seemed to come at her from the right, and another from the left, leaving her veering away from every figure visible through the pounding rain, squinting desperately through the thick, rippling tracks of water streaming down the windshield and the cracks which spider-webbed across it.

_Don'tlikethismusthavebeencrazy—_

_Light, I need light—how do I turn the damned headlights on?! And why the hell are they off in the first place?!_

She flinched whenever branches or leaves whipped the cab, the truck bouncing over rocks and debris beneath, the engine whining loudly every time the vehicle skidded on mud and mulch. She didn't dare take her hands off the wheel long enough to search for the headlights; the poachers probably had them off to minimise detection. Which may have helped them.

_But it sure as hell ain't helping me!_

The engine made several terrifying noises, like metal turning over a grindstone, and Keegan's heart stopped. _Oh, God, don't die on me now!_

_Ease off, you idiot, you're going too fast!_

_Oh. Right._

She made herself take a few deep breaths and forced her foot to relax, to stop pressing the pedal right down to the floor as it had been. The engine's whir slowed, the shapes flashing past now visible as actual trees—what she could see of them through the thick drops splattering over the glass, the thin fissures that remained from their battle, the leaves and debris which skated across the windshield.

_Okay. Better. Maybe I won't die after all…_

Famous last words.

There was a jolt, a bump, as the truck abruptly powered over the lip of an unseen ridge, kicking up mud, water and debris lashing the windows. Keegan's stomach lurched along with the frightening sensation of weightlessness a moment before the vehicle hit ground with a bone-shuddering crunch, skidding and spinning in the slick ground. The girl wrenched at the wheel desperately, struggling to regain control, but she merely sent the truck fishtailing from side to side, the forest a swirl of grey and green and brown outside the windows.

_Please please please pleasepleasepleaseplease—_

_Brake, brake, brake, dammit!_

Her foot went from the pedal to another, pumping on it uselessly before moving to the next and pressing down. The truck jerked, sending up a spray of mud and debris in front of her as the wheels locked, but the slippery ground and the downward slope kept its momentum. It swerved to the side, skidding along at an angle up until the point that a massive tree came out of nowhere right in their path.

_Oh shit—_ was all Keegan managed to think before they hit. Her world exploded into the shriek of metal and the shatter of glass, in counterpoint to the thin animal screeches somewhere in the back. The girl was thrown violently around, the seatbelt wrenching taut and drawing a ribbon of pain up her chest and shoulder, chafing her bare neck raw.

Then there was silence, silence aside from the drip of water and the dull thud and groan of settling debris. For several moments Keegan just sat and trembled, her breaths quick and ragged, her heart pounding, her stomach threatening nausea.

_We've stopped._

_We've really stopped._

The rain drummed through the canopy to trickle through the now completely smashed windshield onto the crumpled dashboard, the steering wheel half caved in to the engine. The passenger's side had received the worst of the blow—the dash had met with the seat, now looking as though it was one object, and the door and hood were wrapped so closely around the bleeding tree that they may as well have been married.

Numbly Keegan forced open her clenched fists, prying them from the wheel—both of them ached, now, her knuckles covered in tiny cuts and scrapes from the glass. She clasped them to her chest in a vain attempt to still the tremors shaking her body, unaware of the stunned tears which tracked down her grimy cheeks. The seatbelt bound her tightly, almost suffocatingly, to the chair, forced at an odd angle by the steel crushed in huge wrinkles across the way.

That was about when the daze began to lift enough for her to start feeling things. For the second time that day, her body ached from the beating it had taken, and she knew she'd have bruises by the next morning. Her neck twinged abominably every time she turned her head, and when she raised a trembling hand to her stinging cheeks they came away wet with watery blood—she'd been cut by flying glass, probably more than once.

Her feet were being squashed by the metal of the dashboard, so all she could feel down there was a heavy weight and the pinpricks of sharp edges. Gingerly she wormed her way out, swallowing a cry of pain when she grazed long scrapes down her shins. When she drew her legs up onto the seat, it was to find her jeans were soaked with oil, ripped and torn, and judging by the sting the metal had drawn blood beneath the heavy denim.

Keegan took a deep breath and almost choked on the sob which came out instead, her eyes pricking with hot tears, her throat closed by a lump.

_I can't, there's no time, I have to get the pokémon out, some of them might be hurt, I can't stay here—_

But for long moments all she could do was hug her knees and struggle to contain the sobs—and fail.

When she finally managed to take several deep breaths in a row without one of them catching—shaky though they were—she fumbled for the button of the seatbelt, only for her hand to scuff hard plastic. When she looked down, it was to find that her seat had been shoved out of position enough to crush the lower end of the belt.

_You've got to be kidding._ She tugged uselessly at the switch, but only succeeded in tightening the band across her chest.

_Not kidding._

She closed her eyes, biting hard on her lip to keep new tears at bay. _Okay. Okay._ _I'm alive. I'm fine. I can't get out. No room for a pokémon. What do I do?_

_Maybe I can break it. Up near the shoulder._ Her eyes flickered open and she twisted around to see where the clip was attached to the side of the truck, but the sudden pain that lanced down her arm made her hiss and flinch away from the chair-back. She abruptly became aware of the liquid she could feel trickling down her arm, making her long-sleeved shirt cling to her wetly, accompanied by a dull throb. A quick look proved that she'd been cut, at some point or another, by the glass of the side window—although it was still mostly intact, if made completely opaque by the white fracture-lines.

_Don't look too bad. Just that I've got so bloody many of them, not just on my arm…_

The clip on the side turned out to be out of reach, the seatbelt pulled too tight to give her any leeway to wriggle into a new position.

_Okay. I can't do that. Maybe I can cut it._ She glanced towards the passenger seat, covered in glass and debris, and stretched so she could root through it to find her bag. _Pocket-knife's in there… not much… but it's better than nothing…_

It took a few moments for her to actually find the pocket-knife, and when she flicked out the blade it looked puny compared to the wide black material of the belt, but she felt better to actually be doing something, no matter how useless.

She didn't get far—didn't seem to have made a difference at all—before the soft crack of a pokémon being released cut through the beat of the rain. Keegan froze, her heart ricocheting off her ribs and into her mouth, and her hand clenched on the knife as she tensed.

"Use Acid, then your tail," a familiar, cold voice ordered from outside over the downpour, and Keegan felt a chill run down her back, her stomach twisting.

_Oh hell, not him._

She heard a splat, as though something sticky had just hit the door, and then a low sizzle, almost lost beneath the other sounds. A long, serpentine shadow rose up behind the broken window; then there was a deafening thud and the door buckled off its damaged hinges, showering her with glass remnants and water as she recoiled, brandishing the knife defensively.

"Air Cutter," came another curt command, and Keegan peeked through half-closed eyes in time to see the air ripple, see it _cut._ She flinched back from the ear-splitting whistle as the draught of blades sliced through the seatbelt and the worn leather of the chair behind it.

The band across her chest slackened but before she could do anything, someone plucked the knife out of her hand. She blinked wordlessly up at Koga as he lifted it by the tip, one eyebrow raised, his spiky hair looking rain- and windswept. "I believe," he said coolly, with a steely undercurrent that made her shiver and look away. "I told you to leave."

_I know you did, but I couldn't, and I don't know why I should listen to you anyway—_

She swallowed, preferring to study the lithe arbok wound halfway up a nearby tree than look at him, see the recrimination in his eyes. Not that it helped; the purple pokémon simply glared back at her, narrow forked tongue flickering in and out accusingly. Her stomach felt hollow with embarrassment, with guilt, with sheer exhaustion. "I was lost," she mumbled. "I didn't come in from the gates, I came from the Cycling Road, I needed to follow them and then you didn't come and I couldn't let them get away—"

"Foolish girl," Koga growled, flicking the pocket knife shut with a practised snap and tossing it back onto her lap. "I've been tracking those poachers for a week now—did you think they were random thieves, darting in and out? No, their scheme was more elaborate; catching them is nothing if I don't catch their accomplices as well. Now you've just ruined any chance of _that._"

_He was… waiting… deliberately waiting…_

_Oh, God. He _wanted_ the ferry to land—he wanted to catch them in the act—_all_ of them!_

Keegan felt sick, swallowing with difficulty through the lump in her throat, her vision blurring with tears. _Oh, God, I've screwed this up so badly._

_You didn't know._

_I should have trusted…_

_You saw what you saw. You acted as best as you could. You didn't _know_._ _How could you have known?_

_It's not my place…_

_Not your place to help some injured pokémon? You wanted to help. You thought he wasn't going to be there in time. Your intentions were good._

She took a deep breath, reaching out to yank the key out of the slot, making the other keys jingle, and shoved her pocket knife into her pocket. "I didn't know," she repeated to herself aloud, as much to her as to Koga. "I didn't—I didn't know—how could I have known? I couldn't see you… I didn't want them to get away… I didn't think—"

"That much," Koga said with exceptional asperity, "Is obvious."

_He didn't let me finish._ She managed to summon a glare from somewhere, but the disdainful look he gave back—in triplicate—made her flush and turn to grab her bag, shaking debris off the soft material. "I didn't think you'd get there in time," she said shortly, channelling the frustration building in her gut into anger instead. _I need the energy, I'm not sure how long I can last, I wanna get to Fuchsia…_

"Think who you're talking to, girl," Koga growled, but Keegan just ducked her head and pushed past him, scrambling out of the mangled cab. She'd only taken a step when his comment triggered a thought and she whirled around, chest heaving, kicking up mulch, eyes blazing.

"Well, if you're so good, why the hell didn't you stop me before I did anything?!" she demanded, but didn't even wait for an answer before she spun about once again, ignoring the arbok's hiss, the pokémon rearing up indignantly at her rough manner towards its master. Koga flicked his hand and it settled down again, narrow, unblinking eyes locked on Keegan as the girl struggled up the muddy hill, ignoring the sting of her various cuts and the ongoing ache in her muscles, the water dripping from above, having faded to a slight drizzle which barely penetrated the thick canopy.

"Because, girl, I had people and pokémon to coordinate, a position to keep, and very little time between realizing you were there and your idiotic decision to play hero to get you out of the way."

Keegan twitched. _It's not like I was trying to hide from anyone except the poachers,_ she thought angrily, her frustration and guilt unhinging the usual walls between her thoughts and her mouth, her next words coming before she could stop them. "You'd think a gym leader would be better prepared," she scoffed, pulling up alongside one of the cages and jamming the key into its lock. Inside, the round, spiky blue nidoran watched her with wide eyes, huddled, shivering, at the back of her enclosure.

The next second someone had grabbed her arm and pulled her around, making her skid in the mud with a curse. She almost fell, but found herself being held up, automatically lifting her head only to meet Koga's dark eyes, flashing with annoyance and making her flinch. "Idiot," he hissed. "We couldn't—risk—being—seen!"

Then he released her just as suddenly and she stumbled, managing to catch herself on the truck before she went sliding down the hill. "I am not accustomed to being disobeyed, girl," Koga said in such icy tones that Keegan shivered, struggling to keep up the tiny bonfire that was her anger. "I did not see you because Iwas not_ looking for a foolish teenager with a hero complex!_"

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't talk like that, I'm sorry—_

Tears pricked her eyes once again, but Keegan swiped them away furiously, angry at her own mistake, at her own fear of the reprimand. _I did what I thought I had to, you can't change it, you can't change it, don't be a coward, you need to face up to him—_

"I just wanted to help," she faltered, and cursed herself for the hesitation. _You helped. You helped. You saved them. Be proud. You did something. You made a choice. It's the thought that counts. _

_If I can remember that…_

_I can take anything he says._

She lifted her chin. "I was trying to help." she said more firmly. "I tried—and I did—I saved them—you can't blame me for not knowing—I just did what I could—and I saved them—"

"The way you were driving, that remains to be seen," Koga replied coldly, with just a touch of the sardonic humour which had marked his words up to a few moments ago. "You're lucky you didn't kill yourself, let alone the pokémon."

_Not fair, not funny, why does he seem like he's laughing at me, he was angry just a minute ago—_

She turned away to struggle with the lock, flipping between keys to try and find the right one, but before she did the entire ring slipped through her cold, numbed fingers and dropped into the debris underfoot. Keegan cursed, but Koga stooped and picked it up before she could do so herself. "I think," he said coolly, holding the keys back from her. "You've done enough damage here. Now this time do what I say and go back to Fuchsia."

"I can't," Keegan said stubbornly. "I can't, I don't know which way to go, I told you I was lost, I'm here by accident, I can't—"

Her gibbering excuse simply made him raise his fingers to his lips to let out a piercing whistle, making her flinch and automatically cover her ears. A second later came a responding screech, a golbat bursting through the foliage in a breakneck dive before it flared its leathery wings sharply to alight atop the cages. "Golbat can show you the way."

It wasn't a suggestion. Koga fixed her with his steady, unnerving gaze, the expression in his eyes ordering her to do what he said but at the same time _daring_—_expecting_—her to argue.

And so she did, one last-ditch effort to remain involved. _I can't give up now, I've come this far, I have to make sure, I don't want to give in—_

"But the—" she began, gesturing towards the truckload of wet, bruised and injured pokémon.

"I will take care of them," Koga cut her off shortly, fisting the keys, and his calculating eyes bored into her even more intensely, as if to say, 'well? Any other ideas, or are you actually going to be a good little girl and do what I say now?'

Hell, she could almost hear him _saying_ it.

She shivered. _I don't trust him, I don't trust him at all, but he _was_ trying to find the poachers, and I'm tired, and I hurt, and I'm wet and cold and my pokémon are injured—_

Her weariness caught up with her, what was left of her anger melting away into exhaustion, overtaken by the shock of the afternoon.

_Why do I get myself into these things?_

"Okay," she whispered dully, hugging herself. The goblet punctuated her words with a screech and a sharp flap, letting itself tumble off its perch to wing mockingly past her head, the tips of its wings scraping her messy hair even as she jerked instinctively aside.

She hesitated for only a moment, casting one last, uncertain glance at Koga before trudging off after the golbat, too tired even to swat irritably at the leaves and water which dripped annoyingly in her eyes.

Koga watched her leave, the metal keys digging into his palm, still as a statue aside from the tiny sway of his scarf until she was out of earshot.

It was only then that he chuckled grudgingly; the girl had nerve, he had to admit that. Foolish, impulsive, pigheaded nerve, yes, but it was there nonetheless. _It's almost a pity that people like that can't be trained. Too stubborn._

With his spare hand he reached into the overlapping fold of his gi, pulling out a round device shaped much like his signature golbat and cupping it securely in his grasp. With a touch of his thumb on the eye-like button at the top of the device, the reflective surface within the gaping mouth of the golbat shimmered with static. "Report," he snapped into it, still gazing thoughtfully after the girl.

_I have never met her; I'm sure I would remember someone so irksome. And yet…_

"_The poachers are in custody, sir,"_ a slightly frustrated-sounded voice answered, the sound waves making the now opaque surface flicker. _"But the ones on the ferry turned tail and ran before they hit shore. They're gone."_

Koga snarled a little in annoyance, his grip on the comm. device tightening. _Very irksome. Damn that girl. And it's unlikely they'll return—not here, and not for a while._

"Monitor the lake," he ordered anyway as rain dripped onto the mirror-like screen in shimmers and ripples of static. "The police in Fuchsia have taken an interest in these poachers—we'll let them deal with them. Meanwhile, there's a truckload of pokémon for shipment."

"_Yes, sir. We've got a lock. Is there someone we should look for—any idea who interfered?"_

Koga's eyes narrowed, staring into the trees where the girl had vanished. _Familiar, yet unfamiliar…_

"No. None at all."

He didn't wait for a reply; with a second touch on the eye, the surface faded into its original state and he tucked the device away, raising one of his bladed pokéballs to return his arbok. _Like it or not, girl, you now owe me twice over—and if I ever do have the misfortune of meeting you again, rest assured I will collect._

With that he tossed the keys carelessly onto the back of the truck, striding calmly away from the screeching, restrained pokémon to vanish into the wet forest with a flutter of his crimson scarf.

**A/N:** _A 'gi' is a Japanese tunic worn during training. Think of a judo jacket; sort of like that._


	8. To Recover What is Lost

**A/N:** _Ehehhehheh… (sweatdrops) This has been done and posted on SPPf for over a month. Why am I so lazy with posting this story on this site but not my other ones? I do not know. I'm sorry. The chapter as a whole was just difficult to write—I'm still alive, though, don't worry!_

_Usual disclaimers apply; WARNING for excessive use of language, particularly the 'f-word'. Dedicated to Red Doberman, because he (she?) didn't give up on me… sorry I didn't reply to some of your PMs!_

_EDITED (29/09/08)_

* * *

** VII **

**TO RECOVER WHAT IS LOST**

Storm clouds.

Brother could hear them, taste them, feel their chill in his fur, their blinding illumination making his vision flare white every time lightning flashed.

He licked the air almost pathetically, hoping beyond hope that the Wish-Giver might have answered his prayers, but all he could taste was water, water and trees and soil. There was nothing to follow. There was no trail. There was nothing.

"_Brrreeeenn!"_ he keened in frustration, dark paws kneading the ground in little showers of dirt every time he pulled up with his claws. The bush under which he was sheltered kept on dripping, leaving his short fur sodden, his long ears drooping on either side of his head beneath the weight.

The Woodland of Bondage was nearby, and with it, the Town of Ensnarement. They were the icons of the area—that girl, that _human_, she was sure to have gone there.

But the legends-damned sky-water washed away any chance of picking up that familiar and loathed scent, warm and spicy, tempered by the tang of salt. He couldn't follow her through the Path of Turning Circles, had lost her trail in the Woodlands because of the weather, could only assume that she had been to the Town of Ensnarement.

Now she was gone, and Bairn, sweet, frail Bairn, had gone with her.

And he didn't know where.

_O Guiding Light, show me where the Stained has walked, so I may seek my pack, my litter-mate, my brother,_ he thought despairingly, casting the prayer up to the heavens for the Guardian to hear.

He would wander forever if he had to, but he couldn't afford to waste the time; there was no telling how she could hurt him, subvert him, if Brother got lost, if Bairn was left in her clutches for too long.

The sky roared, water began to fall, and Brother could only flop miserably down to the semi-dry ground, at a complete loss, his lithe body beginning to shiver a little in the cold.

And then came running the human answer to his prayer.

* * *

Thunder boomed overhead, the wind lashing at the foliage, whipping the leaves. Rain pelted the ground like bombs, the crackle of lightning casting an eerie, intermittent glow over the path.

_Damn—damn—damn—damn!!_ Tynan cursed inwardly, one arm raised to stave off the downpour, the other clutching his bag close, his boots pounding the wet dirt as he ran down the path which supposedly led to Fuchsia City. _How people can stand this—I can't believe I left home for _this_!_

His sleeveless green coat flicked and flapped around his legs, the material heavy with dampness, dripping in his wake, its hem peppered with mud that flecked onto his trousers with every step.

_Cover, I need cover—damn this storm, anyway, no wonder no one ever goes travelling—_

_Well, no one worth knowing, at any rate._

The path dipped, making him step through a puddle before he could detour, water splashing up to drench the tops of his boots, but he didn't do much more than curse; there was no point in stopping, he'd only get wetter.

_I'll probably reach the gym sooner than the Centre, it's on the outskirts—I can wait there until it stops raining, the city proper isn't far after that._

Thank God for that, at least. He'd left Celadon City several days ago, but after having travelled Cycling Road and been confronted by those idiot bikers, he was more than ready to get into a real city. He didn't know whether what's-her-name, Keegan, would still be there or not—or whether he'd beaten her there—but he figured if she'd left then someone would've seen which way she went and he could trail along.

He did, briefly, contemplate the thought of travelling _with_ her—but he didn't want her to start getting expectations and he didn't intend to follow her for long anyways. Just until he got on his feet, so to speak. Or until he managed to get a clue as to her and Erika's secret.

Although he'd be damned if he was gonna keep on if it was still raining by then…

"_Bruuuun!"_

The abrupt howl made Tynan recoil in surprise as a darting figure of yellow and pitch-black exploded from the foliage lining the thin path. The young man swore heavily, instinctively dodging away from it with soggy footsteps, casting up sheets of mulch and water.

The figure—_an umbreon?!_ Tynan thought incredulously—skidded across the width of the track, fur bristling wildly and fangs bared in a snarl, its tail and swept-back ears quivering with hostility. Without pausing for breath it launched itself at Tynan in a flurry of leaves.

_Shit!_

Tynan jerked aside, his boots slipping on the slick terrain to send him crashing to the ground with a breath-stealing thump, the pokéball he'd just managed to snatch up arcing through the air to bounce off a wrinkled tree nearby. The umbreon landed at the same time that a black-feathered murkrow coalesced into existence, sending herself into a shallow stoop with a powerful thrust of her wings.

_What the hell…? _Tynan rolled over with a groan, pushing himself up onto his elbows, the sleeves of his white shirt soaked through and clinging to his skin. He lifted his head, shaking back his damp fringe, in time to see the umbreon leap away from his murkrow's Peck attack, the flying pokémon flaring her wings just enough to angle her back upwards with a series of flaps.

The umbreon came down on soft paws, head drawn back as shadows built in its throat, wisped over its muzzle, and Tynan's heart jolted in recognition. _Shadow Ball—_

"Murkrow, dodge!" he shouted desperately, rearing up onto his knees, oblivious to the leaves and mulch which clung to his clothes.

"_Krrawk?"_

The pokémon sounded startled, but at the hollow roar behind her she banked so sharply to the side that she rolled in midair, wings tucked close to her body as the dusty globe shot past, darkness steaming along behind it. The force of the attack sent the flyer tumbling, uncontrolled, even as the Shadow Ball punched through the canopy and writhed into nothingness beneath the downpour which greyed the sky.

She didn't manage to catch her balance before the umbreon was right _there,_ but before any attack could connect the murkrow dissolved into red light, recalled.

The umbreon hit ground once again, springing instead for the trainer who had just staggered to his feet, Murkrow's pokéball still clutched in one hand. With a hiss through gritted teeth which may or may not have been a curse Tynan jerked instinctively back to avoid the umbreon who sailed past, boots kicking up mulch as he twisted to follow the pokémon's path, a red-and-white pokéball in his hand and pitched before the umbreon had landed.

It was a second after that that he realized the pokéball he'd just thrown was empty.

_Fuck!_

The umbreon skidded across mulch, legs outstretched to slow itself down, and turned around just in time to see the pokéball coming—and to wait for it, red eyes flashing with some emotion Tynan didn't understand.

Then it dematerialized, the pokéball dropping to the damp turf, vibrating fiercely for a moment before locking down.

Tynan stared, slightly stunned. _I caught it? But I didn't even _hurt_ it!_

_Although…_

_It was almost like it _wanted_ to be caught…_

Thunder boomed, startling Tynan out of his thoughts, and the teen shook his head violently, hitching his bag up onto his shoulder. _What the hell am I doing, I'll get soaked if I don't keep moving!_ Re-energised, the trainer dashed forward, scooping up the pokéball as he passed and continued on his run down the narrow path, casting up leaves and debris in his wake.

And inside the sphere in his hand, a red-eyed pokémon trembled with adrenaline and wild glee, fighting the urge to burst from his prison, scornful at the human's arrogance to think that he'd be so easily subdued. _Take me to her, human._

_I will endure this indignity, I will endure being called _your_ Kin, so long as you take me to her._

* * *

The storm-pelted trees opened up ahead of the muddied path, and Tynan hissed in relieved triumph as he saw the tall, thick timber barrier fencing the gym's extensive grounds, the wood darkened by water and the green roof tiles swept with rain. He ducked through the broken curtain of droplets that scattered over the ground at the edge of the clearing's canopy, the hem of his coat further drenched by the mud splattering up behind him as he ran across the short hard-earthed stretch of ground between him and the mansion.

The tall wooden gate stood open, the long trail leading up to the entrance lined with dishevelled bushes that were only a blur as Tynan hurried past, his only concern getting inside and out of the wet. It was only once the massive doors had shut behind him with a hollow boom that he stopped to relax, leaning wearily back against the timber and gulping down air, struggling to slow his pounding heart.

The corridors in front of him and to his sides were all identical: narrow, the walls and floor plain wood, lit with round lights set into the ceiling. The thought of just waiting here at the doorway like a coward didn't appeal to the turquoise-haired trainer, but as his breath slowed to something more comfortable Tynan eyed the passageway warily. He remembered reading about Koga and the Ninja Clan for his history class last year, and the Elite was known for booby-trapping the gym.

True, all gym leaders usually set up _some_ kind of obstacle, but the Fuchsia gym had made it a serious custom. _The whole ninja thing, probably… they've always been really big on discipline._

He could do without it, but considering that the gym doubled as a ninja training dojo, he wasn't sure he was going to get a choice. The clans tended to be very… focused… when it came to their training. _Those that are left, anyway. There aren't many truly traditional establishments left anymore, let alone pure clan-lines._

The Dragon Clan was very secretive about their techniques, the martial clans less so; but the ninja tended to practise _on_ visiting trainers.

He shivered suddenly, the insidious cold of his wet clothing becoming apparent now he'd cooled down, and he wrapped his arms around himself, hunching his shoulders to keep his bag from falling. The action made him remember the pokéball he still clutched in his gloved hand, and he lifted it closer to study the black-and-yellow figure inside. Umbreon had good senses, he knew, aside from the fact that they practically had no sense of smell—and their sense of taste more than made up for that.

But, looking at those flashing red eyes and the bristling fur, Tynan decided that this was the last place he should risk releasing a recalcitrant, probably hostile pokémon. _It wouldn't do any good for my reputation to be seen being disobeyed._

Instead he called out his short, dinosaur-like marowak, who _did_ have a good sense of smell and would be able to tell with reasonable success whether another pokémon was nearby.

"_Mmarr,"_ Marowak rumbled, leaning his weathered bone comfortably on his scrawny shoulder and cocking his head enquiringly at Tynan.

The trainer shook his head, hugging himself tightly, brushing off a stray drop which trailed down his neck. "Just be ready," he said a little wearily, fingering the semi-transparent surface of the umbreon's pokéball. "I don't intend on going in any further." _The Fuchsia gym was just about _last_ on my list of gyms to visit. I don't like the idea of being sneak-attacked._

As if those two nights he'd spent outside hadn't been enough—he'd hardly slept at all, because of all the damn noises, the paranoid fear that something might attack him while he rested—to say nothing of the damned _rain_. And then there had been those idiot bikers who'd ambushed him on the Cycling Road—not once, but _twice,_ one gang at the entrance to Celadon and a couple of grimy wannabes nearer Fuchsia.

So in all, Tynan wasn't a happy camper.

He was right about one thing, however.

He didn't get a choice.

From somewhere nearby there came a muffled pop, following by a low hiss, and automatically Tynan whirled around, only to be met with a stream of acrid smoke. He flinched away from it, one hand flashing up to cover his mouth and nose, the air harsh on his throat as he breathed.

"_Mmraa!"_ Marowak cringed, hunching down as though it would be help him avoid the fumes and gesturing insistently down a corridor with his bone, his brown tail cutting through the smoke which billowed around his scrawny form. Tynan grimaced at the thought—_deeper into the lion's den—_but then another shallow breath caused him to choke and cough. With a mental curse he turned on his heel and fled the main doors in a cloud of miasma, his marowak a swift figure beside him.

His rain-slick boots slipped on the polished floor when he tried to take the first corner, and with an automatic oath on his lips his hands shot out to snatch for balance. As if on cue there came a howl of warning from Marowak, a second before something hard hit the back of Tynan's knees, making them buckle.

"Sh—"

He was cut off by an explosion of breath when he hit the floorboards, automatically curling over the twinging shoulder which had landed first. "Maro— the hell—?!" he gasped, head aching slightly with the abrupt change in position.

"_Mmmrr,"_ Marowak rumbled, pointing his bone into the airspace above his trainer. With a slight huff Tynan rolled half onto his back, feet slipping as he tried to push himself up, shoving his bag aside—and finally saw the twinkle of the electrified spinarak web suspended at what had been his chest height.

_What… the…?_ He stared dumbly, unable to reconcile the sight as truth, unable to accept that the ninjas had actually set a trap so dangerous for him. Trick panels and smoke bombs were all well and good, but outright _electrocution…_?!

"_Mmarrr!"_ Marowak jabbed him impatiently on the shoulder, causing the young man to automatically jerk away with a hiss when the club hit developing bruises, snapping him out of his disbelief.

_I need to get out of this nuthouse,_ was the first thing to come into his mind, followed by the incredulous thought of: _they just tried to kill me!_

The idea spurred him back to his feet, his wet coat heavy around his legs, once again remembering the umbreon only when he put his hand out to push himself off the wall. Grimacing, Tynan stuffed the pokéball into its pouch on his belt, slung his bag onto his shoulder, and ducked cautiously under the sparking line to move down the corridor.

He only made the first few steps before Marowak stopped him with an out-thrust paw and a terse grunt. Unthinkingly the trainer froze in place, chest clenching in sudden apprehension and eyes darting around the passageway to find what had given Marowak pause. With a practised flick the dinosaur-like pokémon sent his bone spinning end-over-end down the hall, ripping through glittering spinarak silk with sparks of severed currents, threads trailing like banners behind it. The club struck the wall at the far end of the corridor, dropping to the floor with a clatter and making Tynan twitch.

"_Now_ is it safe?" he asked with a mixture of guardedness and slight desperation, shifting his weight in preparation for movement—either forward or back, he wasn't fussed as long as he could get out of there. _I can't believe the Association actually _supports_ this place!_

A floorboard stirred beneath his foot and his stomach dropped as he froze for the second time in under a minute. _You must be joking._

"Marowak…"

Good God, that could _not_ be his voice—his voice wasn't that high, and his voice didn't _shake—_

And then he really didn't have time to think about it, because there came a wooden clunk from somewhere _behind_ them. Eyes wide in his ashen face, Tynan twisted slightly around to see the rest of the hall, thready wisps of smoke drifting around the corner from the entrance.

He swallowed, his heart beating painfully fast in his ribs as he turned further, trying to see something he didn't know was there. "Maro— Marowak—what—"

His foot slipped, the floorboard skidding out from underneath him, and with a curse he staggered, struggling to keep his balance. The walls shuddered, groaned, a panel at the near end sliding up into the ceiling, and suddenly Tynan really didn't care about the fact that he'd almost gone ass-first towards the ground.

He wasn't exactly a film buff, but he'd seen enough movies to know what was going to happen next.

_Fuck._

"_Mmmarrr!"_ Marowak tugged urgently on his trainer's coat, and without waiting to see what was going to emerge from the opening—although judging by the rattles there were a lot of them—the pair turned on their heels and ran.

"_Trrrrrrzzzz…"_

A high buzz filled the hall, the air almost seeming to vibrate with the sound, counterpointed by the clatter of many round bodies against wood.

Tynan's back prickled wildly with fearful anticipation, his boots pounding the floor in unison with his heart against his ribs, but he resisted the urge to look back; he knew what they were.

_Voltorb! Why the hell did it have to be _voltorb_—they're fucking _Bomb Balls_!_

He pushed himself to go faster, his bag dragging at his shoulder and coat flapping behind him, Marowak's pattering footfalls an accompaniment to the thud of Tynan's steps and the slight whisper of dragging silk as it clung to their feet.

The end of the corridor approached in a blur of wooden walls and near-panic, the air behind them crackling with sparks of electricity. The floor shuddered beneath the force of the rolling pokémon, Tynan's ears ringing with their unending, high-pitched drone to the point that it felt like it was the only thing in the entire world—all except for the harsh rasp in the back of his throat and the stitch growing in his side.

Then he was there, and he was going too fast, and with a curse he slammed shoulder-first into the wall at the far end—

A hidden panel gave way beneath him as he hit and he hurtled into the unlit room beyond, feet slipping on the layer of spinarak silk. Already off-balanced by an expected collision, he crashed to the floor with a whump that left him breathless and wheezing, his previously uninjured shoulder taking the brunt of the blow.

_No time no time no time—_

Red-faced, Tynan rolled over clumsily, scrabbling into the small room and shoving the hidden door closed with his feet as Marowak darted in, snatching up his bone club when he swept past where it lay. The trainer caught a glimpse of the red-and-white mob packing the corridor beyond—_I was right, they're voltorb—_and his stomach twisted violently with a terrifying realization—_it's not gonna stop them, it didn't stop me and it won't stop them and they'll explode and I'm a goner—_automatically scrambling back from the crackling juggernaut.

The panel clicked shut, outlined only by the bright glow of electricity.

Marowak snarled from somewhere beside him, barely audible over the ear-splitting buzz which vibrated the close walls.

Something hurtled across the darkened space, striking a tab on the wall with a thud.

A trave fell across the door just as the voltorb hit the other side of the barrier. The small room rocked violently with multiple explosions, the near-deafening sounds making Tynan clutch his ears and curl into himself. The panel was almost blasted off its hinges, slivers of wood bursting inwards, the timber splitting, dust and debris billowing in the confined space.

Then it was over, and for a few seconds Tynan just lay and trembled, struggling to control his gasping breaths. When he finally unfolded himself from his foetal position it was with the twinge of aching muscles, his eyes wide in a pale face as he pushed himself up just enough to look blankly back in the direction of the still-very-much intact barrier, ignoring the cloud of dust settling around him. _There's no way…_

"_Mmrrr,"_ Marowak grunted, accompanied by the scrape of tough hide on timber, and Tynan took a deep, shaky breath, deliberately pushing away the thought of just how close he'd been to those explosions._ Shit, but they didn't teach me anything about this at the University!_

Another deep breath. _Light. I need light._ Almost immediately he decided against letting Flareon out; the room was stuffy enough as it was, and even though he'd been cold not long ago he now felt flushed, his clothes sticking to him damply. Instead he fumbled for the penlight keychain he usually kept on his belt, clicking it on so that the thin bean wavered over the timber walls, his hand still not quite steady enough for his liking.

Scrambling to his feet, he hitched his bag onto his shoulder, taking a cautious step forward and kicking something that rattled across the slightly debris-strewn floor.

_Fuck!_

He flinched and froze, his heart leaping back into his throat after just having settled. Wasn't he ever going to catch a break?!

"_Mmmr,"_ Marowak scoffed at his trainer's reaction, waddling into the dim light and picking up his bone, the glow playing across the sharp edges of his sleek skull helmet.

_Oh._ was all Tynan thought for a moment, recalling the sudden, sharp motion in the air in front of him just before the voltorb had struck the panel. A second later he shook his head as though to throw off the confusion, discomforted by his uncertainty, unnerved by his position. _I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I decided to do this,_ he thought bitterly as he bent down to scoop up his bag._ These people are nuts. That Keegan girl is nuts. The _League_ is fucking nuts!_

Scanning the ground with his torch, he approached the door warily, the wood furry with splinters and splits. It was only when he looked closer, shining the light over a particularly deep groove, that he realized the panel was significantly thicker than its weight and ease of movement would suggest, likely due to the matte grey material behind the wood.

_Lead. The fucking door is lead-lined._

With something between a sigh and a groan he thunked his head against the door, resting his brow against the warm timber and closing his eyes wearily. _I should've fucking known. Not even the ninjas are fanatical enough to _kill_ challenging trainers. If Marowak hadn't dropped the beam then they probably would've done it themselves in a second._

Which meant they were watching him—he already knew that.

It was just that he hadn't exactly behaved in a manner befitting himself.

_I hate this fucking gym._

"_Mmmarr!"_

Something tugged impatiently on his still-wet coat, but still Tynan snatched an extra second or two of motionlessness, aware of his various aches and the adrenaline-weary drag of his limbs. This was _not_ what he wanted to be doing when he left home, this was _not_ how things were supposed to go! _When I get out of here…_

When he got out of there he didn't know what he was going to do, but it included putting the Fuchsia City gym on his list of places he _never_ wanted to go again. In fact he was quite willing to imagine the place didn't exist. Period.

_I'll check out the city,_ he thought viciously, opening his eyes and scowling at a fuzzy splinter just in front of them. _The zoo. Maybe I'll see if I can't catch something in the Safari Zone, if I have time—not like I'm short on cash, not with what I had saved and the allowance from the Association._

Anything_ to expunge my memories of _this_ place!_

"_Mmaarr!"_

"I know, I know," Tynan grumbled into the panel, and with a huff the trainer raised his head, blinking in the dim light.

_Now what?_ he thought grumpily. _We can't get out this way, the voltorb will be blocking the door—and I've been close enough to voltorb to last me a lifetime, I am _not_ going to go wading through them. Besides, how do I know they're all fainted? I could go out there and get exploded for _real_!_

"_Mmaarraww!"_

Something hit him on the back of the legs and Tynan jumped, his heart leaping to his throat as he whirled around, his penlight wavering over an impatient-looking Marowak. The dinosaur pokémon grunted as though to say 'finally!', pointing impatiently with his bone at the opposite wall.

For a moment Tynan couldn't see what the big deal was, but then the beam from his penlight played over the wood in just the right way and he saw the fracture-thin shadow that was the seam between door and jamb. He resisted the urge to slap his head, feeling his cheeks warm in embarrassment. _A second door. I should've thought of that._

_Damn ninja._

He and Marowak spent the next ten minutes making sure the door actually was safe to go through, as quickly and thoroughly as they could in the dim light. When they finished, Tynan eyed the timber warily, still skittish, but his desire to get the hell out of that cursed gym overruled his fear. He prodded the door cautiously near the edge, the weight distribution causing it to swing open easily and without a sound.

The room on the other side appeared even darker than the stuffy antechamber, and Tynan's mouth turned down in displeasure. The beam from his penlight was like a pinprick in the gloom, their footsteps sounding loud on the floorboards as they entered guardedly. Everything seemed muffled and close, and Tynan could swear he could hear something in the walls, but when he paused to listen there was only the faint drum of rain on the roof.

_Still storming, I guess._

The surface beneath his feet softened, but angling the penlight down only showed a glimmery silver carpet… which, considering he was in the middle of a ninja's dojo, was kind of strange.

_Make that _very_ strange._

Cautiously, his heart doing a slow pound low in his ribs, Tynan scanned the room with the penlight, but he couldn't see much of the walls—it seemed to get kind of foggy the further the dim light had to travel. "Marowak, can you—"

He walked into something.

His heart moved from low gear to high and he jerked automatically away from the thin web with a curse, but the threads had already clung to his skin and clothes. A second later they pulled taut and he was yanked off his feet, dropping his penlight, airborne for a gut-wrenching moment before his back hit soft wall with a whoomp. His boots found the floor, his bag bounced against his side, still dangling from his shoulder, and he found himself bound to the thick silver web coating the timber wall.

He snarled uselessly into the dark, hands flexing with adrenaline and resentment, straining against the tough silk holding him still. _Shit, I am sick and tired of being flung around!_

"Marowak!" he snapped, eyes scanning the darkened room. The beam from the penlight was a soft glow somewhere out ahead of him, illuminating the 'carpet'—more webs—but other than that there was no movement.

"_Mrra-rrr,"_ Marowak's stilted, disembodied voice sounded, but Tynan couldn't tell from where.

_I've had it with this fucking gym!_ he growled to himself angrily, tugging at his bonds, twisting his wrists this way and that, to no avail.

"I'd stop doing that if I were you," said an unfamiliar, female voice, and Tynan jerked in surprise, his head snapping up to search the dark room.

"Stop hiding and show yourself!" he shouted, his tone thick and shaking with anger and annoyance.

"Temper," the woman chided with slight amusement, but the ceiling flared with over-bright lights, making the trainer flinch away and squeeze his eyes shut against the dazzle.

After a few moments the glow through his eyelids abated and he cracked them open cautiously, squinting a little through the lingering glare, his breath and heartbeat sounding loud in his ears.

The first thing he saw was Marowak ensnared in the corner, the pokémon straining against the silk cocooning him, his eyes narrowed and concentrated as he stretched—futilely—for the bone lying on a bare patch of floor nearby.

The second thing he saw was the massive, red-bodied spider clinging to the opposite wall, its pincers moving slowly. A chill ran down Tynan's spine, his eyes lingering on the pokémon for several long moments before he managed to tear his eyes away. _Shit, that's a big fucking bug._

That was when he finally noticed the young woman standing a half-dozen feet in front of him, clad in a dark, thigh-length kimono, her pink hair tied in a short, spiky ponytail and her lower face obscured by the magenta scarf wound around her neck, draping down her back. He could only see her eyes, slanted and amused.

The teen bristled. _Smoke me out, electrocute me, scare me to death, humiliate me, but don't you _dare_ fucking laugh and think you're going to get away with it! _

"Who the hell are you?!"

…_smooth, Montgomery, real smooth…_

The woman raised a hand before her eyes, a pokéstar caught between two fingers, and seemed to smile coyly. "I am Janine, daughter of Koga, gym leader of Fuchsia City."

_The gym leader's daughter. Fuck!_ Tynan cursed with a particularly savage yank at his restraints, his wrist throbbing when the silk dug into his skin. He didn't notice—his tingling fingers had unexpectedly brushed the round form of a pokéball beneath his coat.

Abruptly only half his attention was on Janine; the rest was diverted to straining his bonds, stretching for the elusive device as discreetly as he could possibly manage while praying it wasn't the umbreon's. Maybe the ninja weren't actually out to _kill_ him, but they were doing a fucking good imitation and that still made them nuts in his book.

"You know," Janine said almost conversationally, crossing one arm over her stomach and moving the pokéstar aside so she could study him without it being in the way. "It's usually good manners for a challenging trainer to introduce themselves first."

Tynan mustered the best sneer he could manage with his heart pounding in his throat and his hands beginning to throb persistently, threatening to go numb, as he continued to work at the silk. "Then you're not a very good ninja, are you? I only came into the gym to get out of the fucking _rain_!"

"_Ma-aarr!"_ Marowak growled an echo to his trainer's shout, heaving against the web pinning him down and drawing an admonishing chitter from the spindly-legged ariados on the wall.

"Oh my." The pokéstar shifted back in front of Janine's face, the flatter side pressed against the cloth over her mouth as though in self-chastisement. It might've been convincing, too, except that her brown eyes were gleaming with laughter, their corners crinkling with an otherwise unseen smile. "My mistake."

_Stop. Fucking. Laughing._ Tynan snarled inwardly just as he managed to get a hold on the pokéball through his coat. His heart skipped a beat and he had to fight the wave of satisfaction which swept through him lest it show on his face.

"Just as well, I suppose," Janine mused, apparently not noticing Tynan's struggles or the reason for them. "Quite aside from the fact that my father isn't present at this time, you're clearly not a very good trainer."

_Ex_cuse_ me?!_ Tynan snapped back to attention with a snarl. "_What_ did you just say?!" he demanded angrily with a jerk at the ariados silk, wrenching his shoulders and causing him to hiss at the twinges that ran down his arms.

Janine raised a delicate eyebrow, in disdain or amusement Tynan couldn't tell, but neither sat well with him. "I did warn you not to do that, you know," she observed mildly.

"Answer the fucking question!" Tynan hissed, feeling stupid as soon as he'd said it, just because the question itself hadn't been particularly intelligent.

"Well," Janine said slowly, drawn out, as though debating whether or not he was worth her wisdom. "It's just that it's usually the trainer who commands the pokémon, rather than the other way around."

_What the fucking hell does that mean?!_ Tynan gritted his teeth furiously. "If you're going to talk, at least make some fucking sense!"

The woman sighed behind her makeshift mask, shaking her head slightly without taking her eyes off him—her eyes, which were suddenly serious and… pitying?

"A good trainer isn't made through education, wealth or the possession of strong pokémon," she said quietly, and pointed at Marowak with her pokéstar. "Let me guess—this one belonged to a family member or friend before he started travelling with you, correct?"

Tynan tensed, suddenly on edge, but he still didn't take the chance to make his move, sensing she had a point to make and curious to know what it was despite her attitude. "What of it?"

"Because," Janine shook the pokéstar at the dinosaur, the pokémon watching her carefully. "_He's_ the one making the decisions—he's the one who warned you about the ariados webs, he's the one who blocked the door, he's the one who got you out of the antechamber, all without _your_ help."

The turquoise-haired boy flushed, opening his mouth to defend himself, but Janine wasn't finished. "He's the one who's done just about everything, and you've just been following _his_ lead." The pokéstar shifted from Marowak to point accusingly at Tynan. "He's the pokémon. _You're_ the trainer. It's _your_ responsibility to lead, not his."

The pokéstar was pulled back, the woman resting her elbow on her other arm, the bladed ball held next to her face. "It's just as well you're not here for a gym battle," she concluded grimly. "You're nowhere near ready for one."

Tynan ground his teeth, his face as hot as a furnace as he struggled to think of a retort—and yet, he couldn't find one.

Because she was right.

Fuck it all, despite everything, she was _right_.

_What the hell am I doing wrong?_

For a moment in which he was stuck in a quandary, that was all he could wonder, suspended between shame and anger and what realisation his pride didn't immediately quash.

Then he shook his head violently, making himself shake in his bonds. _Stop it! I can't get distracted now—if I'm to save any face at all, I have to get out of here under my own power._

His eyes narrowed. "I may not be ready for a gym battle," he growled, his heart pounding and head throbbing with tension, determination thrumming in his arms and hands and veins. "But I'm more than capable of taking _you_ on!"

And he heaved at the silk binding him, throwing himself to the side to toss an abnormally warm pokéball forward with a short jerk. It hit the cushioned ground less than a foot in front of him and exploded in a burst of red light and the roar of purple flames, Tynan already hunching away from the light and heat.

"Smokescreen!"

With a swirl of smoke the flames turned to smog, the Smokescreen blanketing the room. Holding his breath and blinking rapidly against the thick, ashy haze, Tynan pulled hard at his restraints. With only a little pressure they snapped, charred and weakened by Flareon's downplayed Will-O-Wisp. He shook them off, counting himself lucky that it _had_ been Flareon. He had spent a lot of time training with the eeveelution to maximise his speed and efficiency by preparing moves while still in the pokéball and taking advantage of their opponents' delays and his own attacks.

He chose to ignore the similarity in that method with the ninja's own techniques.

"Two against one is a little unfair," Janine's amused voice seemed to echo through the smog.

"Fuck you," Tynan snarled, his voice strained as he yanked himself away from the wall entirely, raising an arm to cover his mouth with his shirt.

"Language," Janine chastised in a singsong voice which resonated into a never-ending laugh, making Tynan's back prickle and the trainer spin around automatically before righting himself.

Breathing shallowly through the material over his face, he stumbled in Marowak's direction and almost ended up tripping over the pokémon's hunched form, who was busy straining against the weakened silk while hiding his nose in his paws to temper the stench. Eyes watering fiercely and throat burning because of the smoke, Tynan caught his balance and snatched up the bone Marowak had finally abandoned, using it to break the threads without them sticking to his hands.

Marowak reared up, snapping the last of his bonds, and Tynan thrust the makeshift weapon at the pokémon, already turned half away to searching the thinning smoke for Flareon. The bone had barely left his fingers before he caught sight of a fox-like silhouette standing watch through the nearest veil of the haze, its ears tilted and straining for warning sounds and long fur wavering like sputtering flames.

Tynan tried to think quickly, but he could hardly see or breathe, the ash thick in his mouth and nose and against his smarting skin. _Smokescreen probably wasn't a good idea,_ he realised with dismay, because even though it had provided him with cover it was now a burden.

_But what else could I have done?_

"Ariados, Constrict!"

Tynan's heart leapt to his throat, his stomach twisting so sharply that for a moment he thought he'd been the target.

Which wasn't all that impossible, considering she'd been targeting him almost directly since he'd walked in the door.

_No, she hasn't,_ he realised. _Everything she's done 'til now has threatened me _and_ Marowak._

Which meant she would target all of them, catch all of them in one attack.

Which meant Flareon wouldn't be able to burn the cords without hurting him more.

Which meant…

_Stop thinking!_

"Protect!" he shouted desperately just as the lingering smoke seemed to shift beneath the cutting edge of twinkling silk.

"_Mmarr!"_ For what seemed like the nth time, something hit the back of Tynan's knees. He buckled with a curse, head spinning with the movement, as there was a flare of green light in his fire pokémon's general direction. A dully glittering veil rolled over them, missing Tynan's head by an inch as he pushed himself to his elbows. The silk broke upon it and it shattered into drifting shards of fading light, the threads floating gently to the cushioned ground.

"_Mmaaar-a!"_ With a grunt Marowak pulled back his throwing arm and sent his bone spinning away into the thinning haze on the heels of the Protect's vanishing glow. Tynan staggered to his feet, coughing and pressing the heel of his palm to his throbbing temple.

"We need an exit," he said hoarsely, the lightly burned skin of his face pulling slightly as he spoke. _Preferably not the one we came in by._

Marowak snorted in an 'well that's obvious' manner, his bone returning to him in a waft of smoke and slapping into his paw. Too late they saw the silk attached, and hardly had the dinosaur pokémon's stubby fingers grasped around it then the thread yanked and brought the ariados hurtling through the last wisp of miasma, its spindly yellow-ringed legs cocked and braced for a landing.

The sheer suddenness and proximity of a bug that size made Tynan jerk back, his heel catching on a knot of silk in the 'carpet' and making him stumble. The sharp movement made his head pound so he wasn't sure if what came out of his mouth was a curse or a cry or an actual order, but Marowak ducked and tugged hard on his weapon, looping the silk around three of the spider's legs. The thread slingshot around, hauling the ariados with it on a collision course with the not-so-far wall.

Before the pokémon could hit, air hummed and a draught of wind blades sliced through the silk, passing so near to Tynan's head that he ducked to the ground with a curse and decided to stay there. With a convulsive motion of its legs the ariados freed itself, shooting a pin of thread to catch the wall and flip itself upright.

"Fire Spin, Bonemerang!" Tynan shouted, jabbing a finger at the ariados while craning his head to find the bat pokémon somewhere above. Fire roared past as Tynan scrambled back, wiping silk off his hands, while Marowak ducked low to avoid the flames, hurling his bone into the inferno.

The ariados shot a thread to the ceiling, gliding upwards on a glistening cord of silk and avoiding the worst of the flames. There came a puff of embers as the bone came hurtling from the roiling streamer of fire, echoed by a blaze of sparks as Flareon exploded out in a Quick Attack, fur ablaze with red and gold veins of fire.

The crobat banked with a silent twist of its lower wings, the blackened club soaring past. With an urgent chitter the ariados tugged on its thread to swing itself out of the way, and Flareon rebounded off the scorched wall with the crack of smouldering embers.

Timber splintered and collapsed beneath the fox's burning paws, a panel shifting beneath his weight to swivel open, charred ariados silk stretched across the gap like a damaged veil.

Tynan's head had snapped at up the first sound of wood breaking and for a moment he could only stare at the prospect of freedom only a few feet away, certain it was a trick.

Then: "Protect!" he roared to both his pokémon as Marowak caught his bone with a grunt and Flareon landed on a patch of cleared floor, primly shaking ash off his paws. Two heads cocked towards their trainer in response to his order, and then the corner was cast with double films of fragmented green light.

A second later the first one rippled and shattered beneath the pounding of sludge bombs, purple gunk splattering over wood and web. The second hummed and splintered the way of the other as Pin Missiles hailed down upon it, but shards of light fizzled to nothingness only on shimmering silk, the panel in the wall swinging ever so slightly and the sound of running footsteps muffled by thick walls.

In a hollow across the room, Janine just smiled slightly beneath the mask of her red scarf, recalling both her pokémon with shafts of red light to the pokéstars between her fingers. _He has potential._

_Potential, but little experience. He's not worthy. Yet._

She let him go.

Until he was ready, they wouldn't meet again.

* * *

The boat rocked beneath the splash and swell of waves, the breeze sharp with salt and the smell of rain. Koga stood motionless at the stern's rail with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, the wind ruffling his spiky hair and olive-green uniform, tugging at his long red scarf.

Behind him the polished deck was a flurry of movement, black-uniformed agents hard at work with the cargo and ship. Black-uniformed, but not in the traditional sense; their clothes consisted of lightweight pants and sleeveless shirts only, with no sign of any distinguishing marks. A ship was far too public to take risks.

Koga wasn't paying attention, however. For the thousandth time since he'd come in from the Safari Zone, his thoughts were turned to that interfering (and _irritating_) young woman. It bothered him—not the fact that she'd meddled in his business, oh no. He was used to that, considering who his associates were and what his occupation was. What bothered him most was that she bothered him, and she bothered him because she was so familiar.

He ran her image over in his mind once again. Slender and tanned, with bright blue eyes shaded by a bobbing fringe, set in a thin face made larger by the blonde, red-tinged hair pulled back into a doubled-over ponytail.

_I supposed she could be reminding me of someone else,_ he mused. It hadn't just been her looks which seemed familiar, but her single-mindedly passionate attitude and the knowledgeable, determined look in her eyes.

Internally he sighed; he was getting nowhere, and now she was becoming a distraction he couldn't afford. He pushed the issue from his thoughts to be pondered on a later date and turned back to his present task, running over his recent meeting with his associates in his mind.

"Are you shittin' me?!" _Lieutenant Surge leaned into the vidscreen as though he could loom over Sabrina menacingly as he so often did when he was talking to someone who irritated him, his thick eyebrows drawn forward in an expression of hostile annoyance._

_The slender young woman merely sighed and flipped her long blue-black hair back over the shoulder of her short-sleeved dress. _

"You heard me," _she answered unemotionally, crossing her arms over the glaring red 'R' on the front of her dress, the long black sleeves playing a stark contrast to the white material. _"He has no place in my squadron. He failed to complete his mission and allowed his team-mate to be captured with potentially dangerous information in hand."

_Surge growled. _"And what makes you think I'd want a pantywaist like him in _my_ squadron?!"

"_Now really," Koga interposed himself before the argument could become truly heated; both his comrades could be stubborn, especially because both of them were dominating and Surge, in particular, wasn't used to be questioned. "Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'discretion is the better part of valour'?"_

_Surge scowled and Sabrina's head moved slightly, an indication that she'd shifted to look at Koga's image on her viewscreen. "If he hadn't run," the ninja continued, "We would have no detailed knowledge of the incident."_

_For a moment there was silence; then Sabrina lowered her head, conceding the point. _"Nonetheless, Koga, I don't tolerate failure. He'd do better elsewhere."

_That Sabrina didn't tolerate failure was true, Koga reflected, but Surge didn't tolerate betrayal, so the redheaded grunt they were currently discussing wasn't going to have a good time under the former lieutenant's command._

_Then again, it could be good for the man._

"Fine,"_ Surge grumbled, glowering off-screen at the wall and almost absently cracking his knuckles. _"He can learn the meaning of teamwork aboard the _S.S. Aqua_."

"It also means we'll have to forget out plans for the Goldenrod Game Corner," _Sabrina settled back into her chair with a slight, displeased twist to her thin lips._ "The Association is on alert there now. However, that is the least of our worries."

_Koga's mouth drew tight; ah, yes. The ESP: a fragment of technology from a high-class experiment which had recently and inexplicably gone missing. That damnable object which was such a sophisticated piece of hardware they didn't even know how to _use_ it anymore. Not that it was their fault; almost everyone who had been involved with the original project was dead._

_And the one that wasn't was no longer on their side._

"It was under the scientists' jurisdiction, wasn't it?" _The spiky-haired blonde on one side of Koga's vidscreen rubbed his clean-shaven chin, eyes narrowed in thought._

"It was under Blaine's,"_ Sabrina answered with more frost than before, and Surge growled slightly._

"Hasn't he been _found_ yet?!"

"_No," Koga answered flatly, fingers tapping an idle rhythm against the arm folded across his chest. "Harry has had no luck thus far."_

"Well, fix it!"_ The military man snarled, jabbing a finger at the viewscreen._ "Cinnabar's a god-damned _island_, how hard can it be?!"

"_He has hidden himself well." Koga answered in grudging monotone. "But I will soon be departing for Cinnabar to supervise the search myself."_

_Surge settled back with a slight huff, apparently satisfied that Koga wasn't neglecting his duty, and Sabrina tilted her head in acknowledgement. It was a little annoying, actually, that Harry was reflecting so badly upon him, but Janine deserved some time in charge of the gym and Koga had seen far too much of the Safari Zone in the past few months._

_Fortunately, this wasn't only on his head. _"No leads as to its location?"

_The question was directed at Surge; he had been in charge of its transport after its use in Professor Sebastian's failed attempt at creating a Raikou-capturing system and subsequent retrieval for storage by the two agents entrusted with the mission. It had been delivered to Olivine and then simply disappeared._

"No," _Surge muttered irritably._

"I doubt it's in _their_ hands," _Sabrina put in calmly. _"Erika has had the Celadon Game Corner under watch, but they have made no moves as of yet."

"Maybe not theirs, but the alternative isn't much better," _Surge leaned on the desk, keying something into the keyboard with his spare hand until an image of a vaguely 'A' shaped emblem appeared in the corner of the screen. _"Team Aqua. They raided the Tin Tower soon after it vanished."

"Why?" _Sabrina demanded, and Surge scowled._

"Fuck if I know, woman," _he retorted. _"I ain't the mind-reader here."

_Sabrina's eyes flashed—literally—but she said and did nothing but stare coldly into the screen. The lieutenant just chuckled lowly, too used to her glares to be too bothered._

"_So," Koga murmured, tucking his chin down in thought, his darkened room shadowing his eyes to the others. "They finally decided that Johto was too much a temptation." His chest was tight with tension; he didn't know much about the Aquas, but where the Aquas went, so did—_

_He cut that train of thought off before it became dangerous, and lifted his face to meet Sabrina's raised eyebrow and appraising gaze._

"Whatever their reason for being in Johto,"_ she said, opting not to call him on his unease—to his faint relief—and tapped one finger in vague annoyance on her black-sleeved arm._ "We can't allow them to think they can wander in whenever they desire."

"_Agreed." Koga tilted his head at Surge. "Ken?"_

_The burly blonde nodded. _"He's free," _he said brusquely. _"I'll send him to Johto to keep an eye on the Aquas." _He smirked. _"And on second thought, the pantywaist can go with him."

"Meantime Ryu will remain in Celadon," _Sabrina said, before her cold eyes shifted slightly to Koga once more. _"And I hope we can trust that the efforts to catch Blaine will be successful in the near future?"

_Koga turned off the screen without giving her an answer._

Koga's eyes opened almost without him realising he'd closed them, and he had to resist the urge to sigh out loud, the wind sharp and cold with spray against his angular face, the overcast sky weighing down on him invisibly.

Things were getting complicated.

And he had a feeling that, contrary to Sabrina's hope, they were only going to become more so.


	9. Under the Rockets' Red Glare

**A/N:** _Ugh, this should have been up a month ago. Sorry! Here it is now.

* * *

_

**~ VIII ~**

**UNDER THE ROCKETS' RED GLARE**

'Oof!'

Keegan's foot caught on a stubby bush and she stumbled, making pebbles skid everywhere until she caught her balance. 'Stupid trees … can they even be _called_ trees?' she wondered, kicking the foliage belligerently.

'Frii friiiii~' Bramble singsonged, then tittered madly as she twirled in the air overhead, her wings glittering in the sporadic sunlight.

'Oh, shut it, you,' Keegan muttered, hopping over a loose rock and almost skidding on the gravel behind it. A second later she had to duck suddenly as the butterfree's wings grazed her hair, the pokémon drifting down the steep and craggy mountain on the breeze before performing a mocking twirl.

'Bram-_ble_,' Keegan sighed, but didn't have the energy to tell the pokémon off, her legs past the point of aching and into the realm of feeling downright rubbery. Down at her feet, Hazel huffed in discontent, her ears moving back in irritation before flickering to a neutral upright position as the butterfree fluttered nearer to them once again.

Keegan didn't know what she'd been expecting when she took the butterfree with her, but what she got hadn't been part of it. The pokémon had been quite willing to battle with her in the Safari Zone, and she hadn't exactly been disobedient since, but there was attitude there. Keegan didn't think it was because the butterfly was angry with being taken from her home—in fact, when she'd released her for the first time in the Fuchsia Pokémon Centre Bramble had been nothing less than enthralled with all the new things she could look at (and almost been chomped on by an irate and stir-crazy nidoqueen when she turned out to be too much of a nuisance). Same for when they got to Cinnabar (minus the nidoqueen-chomping. This time it was a houndour).

_I think it's just because she doesn't like being talked back to._ Or didn't like being told what to do unless it was something that coincided with what she _wanted_ to do.

Keegan' stomach flip-flopped as she made this realisation, watching the butterfree glide along on the wind while she herself trudged down the non-existent path, a pang beginning to grow in her side. _Uh oh. She could turn out to be more of a problem in battle than I thought._

Especially considering how many of said battles had, in the past, turned out to be double or even triple matches. Bram had had plenty of time to meet with the rest of the team while they waited out the storm in Fuchsia City, and thus far the outlook hadn't been encouraging. Firefoot had been a bit bemused, though quite willing to make friends, but he was about the only one. While Tarn was adjusting well to the arcanine once he became sure the massive dog wouldn't be going around stepping on him (not deliberately, anyway), Bramble's dominant nature, combined with her energy, seemed to intimidate him, and it was an issue Keegan couldn't see going away as easily as the former had.

That same dominant nature, on the other hand, had pegged Hazel instantly as Bram's rival, and sparks had flown between them ever since. Keegan wished she could say the butterfree was 'mischievous', but 'catty' was probably the better term. _At least Hazel's _trying_ to be mature about this._

Mature, right. If sitting/perching at opposite sides of a room and _staring_ at one another for hours on end could be called mature.

_I think what Hazel's most annoyed at is how Bram treats me, though._

Not that Bram treated Keegan badly, just not with the respect that Hazel apparently thought was appropriate.

_Why did I decide to keep Bram, again? I didn't leave Alto Mare to capture pokémon._

_Because if you had let her go you would have had to go out into the middle of the storm and back into the Safari Zone?_

_Oh yeah …_

Just leaving the butterfree at the Pokémon Centre to be released later by Nurse Joy had seemed too much of a slap in the face after the battle they'd shared in the Safari Zone (no matter that said battle had turned out to be a disaster). Every time Keegan flexed her hand she would remember that; the way the butterfree had saved her, and then saving the butterfree in return …

_Releasing her at _all_ would have seemed like a slap in the face. Or over the antenna. Or whatever._

At least she'd had time to think about what to do; the ferries had been stopped for three days due to the storm passing over, and even if they hadn't been she might have stayed in Fuchsia anyway, just to give herself time to rest up. Her hand wasn't bad, Nurse Joy had reassured her, but it had been painful and heavily bruised at the time and would probably remain achy for a week or so.

In the present, Keegan absently flexed her fist in a motion that was almost second nature now, testing just how stiff her fingers were. Nurse Joy had told her she wouldn't have to see a doctor—which had been rather a bucketful of ice, since Keegan had never even considered what might happen if she had an injury as bad as _that_—but the nurse had still made her write down a list of common painkillers, right after making sure the girl's first-aid bag carried a bottle of one of them.

Then Keegan had boarded a ferry as soon as the storm had passed over, relieved enough to be leaving Fuchsia (and creepy Koga) behind that she almost hadn't minded being on the ocean again.

It was two days after that, the sky still overcast and threatening rain and the sheer humidity of the island making the idea of hiking less than exciting. _But it's better than being in Fuchsia, and at least I'm making steps forward._

… _Hah!_ She snorted in between puffing for air, jumping almost nimbly from one rock to another and automatically checking her feet to make sure Hazel had enough space to follow. She'd asked all over town for directions to the gym, and all they could really tell her was that it had burned down a year or so ago.

_But they also told me that trainers still come to challenge Blaine and leave with badges in hand, so he has to be around here _somewhere.

'Somewhere' wasn't close enough, she decided as the path began to wind past an outcropping which cast several feet of shadow, and the girl detoured up slightly to sit against it. It was with a half-sigh, half-groan that she slid to the pebbly ground, stretching out her legs.

Really the only drawback, Keegan reflected as she shook off her bag-strap, was that the humidity of the island meant the shade didn't offer much in the way of coolness. _The warmth of the rock doesn't help either._

'Bii.' With a grunt Hazel settled by Keegan's leg, automatically kneading the hard stone beneath her and swishing her tail around her side. For some long moments they just rested, Keegan's breath slowly evening out along with the fading stitch in her ribs as they watched the blue and glittering white figure that was Bram flitting this way and that against the overcast sky. The butterfree vanished behind a crag and Keegan tilted her head back against the warm rock, staring straight up into the sky as she stroked Hazel absently. Despite the grey clouds and likelihood of rain—again—it was quiet and relatively still and, for once, _peaceful_.

It didn't last.

Bram had only been gone for a minute or two when abruptly she came shooting back into the airspace in front of them. 'Brriiifriii!' she shrilled, her voice thin and slightly echoing.

_What the?_ Keegan blinked confusedly at the butterfly pokémon as she sped nearer, her tiny claws waving frantically and her small body doing an urgent twirl, darting this way and that, back and forth. 'Fuuriiiiiiiiiiiiiii!'

'Eeebuui?' Hazel's long ears perked up and she scrambled to her paws, glancing uncertainly towards the crags the butterfree had disappeared behind. That was about when Keegan realised Bram's constant dance was in that direction, and her tiny paws kept motioning towards the rocks.

The girl's stomach plummeted while her heart leapt, dual thoughts running through her mind:

_She's found the gym!_

_What the hell's up _now_?_

With a mixture of dread and excitement Keegan clambered to her feet and heaved her bag onto her shoulder, automatically dusting herself off before following Hazel's nervously whisking tail towards the contour-pretending-to-be-a-path that led behind the crags.

It wasn't long before they heard the echo of unrecognisable voices resounding through the thin hive of gorges which lay further around the mountain, and Keegan felt a pang of apprehension.

_Maybe … it's some gym trainers?_

_Not likely._

Fingering her pendant absently, shoes stepping lightly over rough stone, Keegan followed Bram's flitting path. The butterfree looked satisfied now she finally had her trainer's attention, and she almost seemed to vibrate with energy and determination to do … whatever it was she wanted to do.

_I have a bad feeling about this._

_Have you given any reason to ever give yourself good ones?_ The voice dubbed 'the little fox' asked dryly, and Keegan grimaced.

_Okay, so I'm nosy. I blame you._

_Oh yes, blame the imaginary voice in your head, that's incredibly sane._

The blonde-haired girl shook her head violently. Dammit, why did she have to talk to herself so much? At least she didn't do it out loud.

To keep herself from rambling at herself inside her own mind she focussed back upon the voices, growing clearer as they were. There were two, both male, but while one was young and light, the other was deeper and gruff with age or adversity.

Keegan was just wondering where she had heard this before—because the déjà vu was nearly overwhelming—when she hurried around a jutting rock-face to find herself on the edge of a ravine and the voices abruptly as clear as the day was dark. She froze, automatically ducking and huddling against the crag, Hazel crowding at her ankles and Bram alighting on the jagged stone with an air that was almost smug, and yet also sharp with anticipation.

'—if this is a good idea,' the younger voice was saying, his tone concerned. 'If we get caught—'

'It's our job to make sure we don't get caught,' the other, more mature voice said calmly as Keegan shifted quietly to peer over the edge of the rocks mounted on the precipice, eyes swinging this way and that in search. She caught a flash of red—red clothing—and sidled along the edge to get a better look, taking in the scrubby-bushed and stony valley. 'But we're to consider all options. You can bet Team Aqua has taken Tohjo into consideration.'

_There!_

She saw them: two men apparently investigating the rocks and cliff below. They were both clad in a baggy, sleeveless grey uniform, cinched at the waist with a belt. The hems of their pants were secured around their boots by thick red bandages a little like something a ninja might wear. She couldn't see their faces, obscured as they each were by a hooded red mantle set with demonic-like horns.

'—dangerous, but it's about the only volcano not in Hoenn,' the older man was saying as Keegan tuned back in, although unable to keep from staring at the creepy hoods.

_Why would they be interested in volcanoes?_ she wondered almost absently. Then, _what's with the horns?_

'Mount Silver would likely be even more risky to investigate than this one if it weren't already dead and any operation based in Mount Ember would need a lot more planning if we're to catch Moltres in the bargain.'

_Wait a minute, _what_?!_

A chill ran down her back, accompanied by the realisation that, once again, she was probably in way over her head. In a knee-jerk reaction she scrambled back against the crag and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, her stomach twisting and heart pounding with adrenaline.

_If they're going to catch a Legendary…_

_A Legendary which isn't anywhere _near_ here._

_But they know about it, so that means they're involved, right?_

'Buufurii~'

At Bram's soft warble Keegan's head jerked up, just in time to see the butterfree detach herself from the rock and flit into the valley.

'No, wait! Bram!' Keegan hissed, but the only answer she received was a gentle twirl and an eyes-screwed-up expression which might have annoyance. Or constipation. Keegan was willing to bet the former.

_Dammit! This isn't a good idea!_

_Since when has that stopped you?_

_But all the other times I actually _had_ to do something!_

_Oh really?_

Slapping a hand to her face with a soundless groan, Keegan bounced a pokéball down to where Hazel was perched, tail swishing wildly, upon the edge of the crag, her eyes huge and round as she stared at the men as though they were fascinating new objects she had never seen before.

The eevee heard the device coming and turned around sharply, her ears flat against her head, but her distressed mew was lost to red light.

'I know, I know,' Keegan muttered at the pokéball as she attached it to her belt, swallowing through a tight throat before taking a deep breath and scrambling to her feet. 'But I can't leave Bram behind.'

_Time to play a game.

* * *

_

Brody sighed, running a hand through his sweaty, shaggy hair, then reflexively tugging his hood lower over his eyes when the movement threatened to push it down. _Godda—I mean, shit, it's hot._

A second later he realised he'd censored his own thoughts and shook his head with a slight chuckle, absently brushing dust off the screen of his radar with a gloved thumb. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his companion turn to raise a thin eyebrow at him from underneath his hood, and grinned. 'Nothin'.'

_Ten years with Larry as my partner, I'm surprised I haven't kicked the name-in-vain thing entirely._

Larry wasn't religious, per se—he just had a healthy respect for people's beliefs, and tried very hard to respect those beliefs in what he did and said. Although—Brody's grin faded—that was a problem considering what their Team goals were, as Brody consistently pointed out, but whenever he did he almost always regretted it afterward. That was when Larry would look at him with hollow eyes and not say anything, because he didn't have to ask if Brody had really forgotten those days long past when it hadn't been a problem but an asset.

Those days before the Magmas had become eco-terrorists.

Brody shook his head violently, trailing in the wake of his partner's meandering path as the older man examined rock and cliff for weak points in composition. _Stop it. Just … just stop thinking._

It had to mean something when he thought of his own Team as terrorists, it had to, but they were his Team and his life and his _family_ and no matter how it made him feel the idea of leaving made him feel worse.

That, he knew, was why Larry stoically kept performing his duties despite the fact that they had long since started to betray his personal moral standards; because no matter what, the Team had begun as something to be proud of. They had given themselves to it, body, heart and soul, and they would continue to give all three if it meant contributing to the Team.

That was why they were there, in the middle of Team Rocket territory—_suicidal!_—plotting to influence Mount Cinnabar into erupting—_unthinkable!_—despite the inevitable loss of life and home for the citizens in the town below them—_and we say we're not terrorists?_

But Groudon's power spread with flame and rock and the reach of land, and it wasn't only Hoenn that Maxie aimed to 'rescue' from the influence of the ocean.

He realised he'd put quote marks around the word 'rescue' a second later, even in his own mind, and had to stop short and lower his face to take a moment to compose himself, his chest clenched with guilt.

_So much for not thinking,_ he chastised himself bitterly, and rubbed his eyes with his scarlet-wrapped forearm, pretending it was only because of the dust.

The truth was, it didn't matter _what_ his Leader intended to do.

What mattered was _why_.

The _why_ that was the reason they continued to serve.

The device in his hand chimed and he blinked in mild surprise, having been staring at it unseeingly with his head still downcast. _Oh._

'I've picked up a possible insertion point,' he said finally, coming aware that he'd stopped and _Larry_ had stopped and was waiting patiently for him to report.

_Get your head out of the past and onto the now, you idiot._

It was times like this he almost envied Larry; the man possessed a frightening ability to _not_ think about things which would potentially conflict him.

'Looks like it goes right into the mountain. If we could just get through, we could follow it all the way into the core.' He examined the green-lined sketch on the graphed screen. 'It doesn't seem too thick. I could use Secret Power if—' He was interrupted by the snap-fizzle of a releasing pokémon and sighed, shaking his head slightly with weary fondness as he finished unnecessarily, 'if I had a crack or fissure to work with.'

The orange-haired agent turned around and stepped away, gesturing at the rock wall with a wry twist of his lips.

'Mmrrrg?' The magmar behind him tilted her head in slight hesitance, her claws tapping together timidly.

'Rock Smash,' Larry told her from further back to avoid the worst of the heat rippling off her flame-patterned body. 'On the cliff.'

'Mmrrr.' Magmar nodded, flexing her fists and stumping forward to the cliff, her blazing tail whipping the air. She drew her arm back, aimed the blow with a squinting eye, and let loose. Her fist impacted the cliff with shattering crunch and a billow of dust which swirled in the faint waver of air around her, hissing as it settled against her red-and-yellow flesh. The rock-face shuddered but held; yet when the dinosaur-like pokémon withdrew her arm there was a lattice of hairline fractures spread where she had connected.

Magmar turned around on a talon, cocking her head with a waver of her flame crests and putting her claws together in faint hopefulness, waiting for approval.

'That'll do,' Brody said without looking up from clipping the radar to his belt, pulling a pokéball off the leather with his spare hand and letting it drop.

It snapped open with red light as there was a drift of breeze and, in a stray shaft of sunlight gleaming over the edge of the ravine, the air behind and above them sparkled green with dust.

'Use—'

'Ember!' Larry shouted of his pokémon, and Brody whirled around away from the crag, his spare hand flashing to a spare pokéball and an automatic command already on his lips.

'Protect!'

The fractured gleam of the barrier distorted Magmar's exhaled flames to eerily dancing shadows while a Water Gun—coming from somewhere among the rocks—turned to a darkened splatter on a flickering surface, the steam a short-lived hiss. The heat trapped inside the barricade from the two fire pokémon made the air above them shimmer and seem to come ablaze for a few brief seconds.

_Sleep Powder,_ Brody recognised, just before the Protect splintered and there was a roar of flames not their own.

'Protect!' the Magma agent shouted again, eyes scanning the ravine, ignoring the flecks of ash which drifted down on them and the itchy sweat which trickled down the sides of his face.

'There!' Larry pinpointed the direction the attack had come from just before the blaze obscured their sight, breaking upon the green barrier and causing it to dissolve. 'Fire Blast!'

Brody backed to the wall both to avoid the heat and in an attempt to get a clear view, his eyes darting this way and that, blinking rapidly against the sting of ash. Magmar's Fire Blast crashed against the rocks to the left, but it was a rapid, undulating movement across the centre wall which caught Brody's attention.

_We're being double-teamed._

The realisation brought nothing but calm; this was what they trained for, this was what he and Larry in particular were good at. Larry worked best on impulse, but Brody was the strategist.

'Larry. Centre-right, likely the water-type pokémon.'

Larry nodded slightly, his eyes flickering to see Brody's hand fingering his other pokéball, the motion hidden by the turn of the younger man's body towards the cliff. The older agent caught his partner's eyes and he tilted his head slightly in silent acknowledgement.

'Smokescreen,' Brody said softly.

Torkoal huffed, inhaled, and a second later the hole in her back geysered smog until they were surrounded by a thick, billowing haze. It pressed against the rock walls, wreathing around piles and formations of stone and obscuring nearly everything.

* * *

Keegan clamped a hand over her nose and wiped her watering eyes. Beside her, Firefoot coughed and whined deep in his throat for the horrible stench blocking his senses. _Oh damn …!_

Her fingers fumbled for Bram's pokéball—she had managed to return the headstrong butterfree, but only _after_ the men had become aware of their presence and retaliated to the butterfly's Sleep Powder—and released her into the same mire they were all enveloped by.

'Frriii,' Bram screwed up her face in distaste at the murky surroundings, perching on a rock and shaking her wings irritably as though to rid herself of any ash or grime that might cling to her.

'Whirlwi—' Keegan began, but Bram had already drawn her wings back and beat the air violently, sending dust and smoke flurrying through the ravine and up into the sky. Keegan flinched and buried her face in her arms to protect herself from the sharp wind, and when there was silence and stillness the girl looked up gingerly, her eyes searching the lingering haze of dust for the men to find—nothing.

'Viibuuuu!'

Keegan's heart skipped at the pained cry and she jolted to her feet. _Tarn._

Something plummeted out of the sky at Bram, and with a surprised squeal the butterfree threw herself off the rock. Its apex crumbled a moment later beneath the force of the vibrava's claws, sending up a puff of dirt and pebbles.

Keegan jerked reflexively away from the abrupt appearance of the hostile dragonfly, automatically returning Bram before the irate butterfree could gain her balance on the ground. 'Bite—' she started without thinking, but then the girl's heel caught on a stone and sent her toppling over with a squeak and a whoomph.

Firefoot surged past her in a blur of orange and black, his massive jaws snapping shut on dust as the vibrava beat its wings and sent itself flying backward. Its mandibles clicked and it spat twisting blue—_something_—something that weren't flames but couldn't be described as anything else either—

It ripped into Firefoot—and dispelled the after-image of a Quick Attack, crashing against the rocks behind Keegan. She coughed at the thin debris that flecked down on her, tiny embers making her skin twitch slightly with static.

The vibrava sideslipped, then banked away on the draught of Firefoot's passing. Keegan pushed herself up, still gripping Bram's pokéball, her limbs wobbly but willing. She was just rising to her feet when someone seized her shoulder and she instinctively pulled away and around at the same time, her fist striking out at the hand. She caught a glimpse of a shocked, hood-shaded face, right before there was a blur of orange and Firefoot knocked the man away from her, releasing her from his grip with a wrench.

Keegan stumbled, catching her balance by grabbing Firefoot's ruff before hauling herself up and onto his back. The arcanine's head was lowered, teeth bared towards the man in a snarl of warning, but the instant he felt Keegan's weight he shot off in the direction of Tarn's cry.

Keegan clung to him tightly, her heart pounding, and didn't look back.

If she had, she might have seen Larry sink, stunned, against a rock and bury his face in one shaking hand.

* * *

Rock crunched as Swellow's Steel Wing cut a swathe in the ground, slicing through the shimmer of the vaporeon's suddenly illusory form. The water-fox bounded up a rock and back to jump paw-first at Swellow, but the bird used Quick Attack in turn and instead the water pokémon stumbled as it hit the gravel, its injured hind leg buckling.

From the shadow and relative safety of a rock, Brody watched assessingly as Swellow spiralled up on the breeze to gain some height, giving the vaporeon the chance to recover its footing. With a cry the eeveelution lifted its muzzle to the air, light reflecting rainbows off the ice building around its nose.

'Aerial Ace!' Brody commanded, and Swellow pulled in her wings to tumble into a corkscrewing dive, missing the Aurora Beam which lanced past her in a dazzle of sunlight—still close enough to coat her topmost feathers with rime. The vaporeon tried to slide away on the ice-dusted floor of the ravine, but it was limping from the injury from Swellow's initial attack and the exertion of battle combined.

_Not that there's anything that can evade an Aerial Ace anyway._

'Flame Wheel!'

'Arrccth!'

_An arcanine?!_ Brody jerked around, surprised—he knew a fire pokémon was likely in the battle for the other side but arcanine were a rarity for the average trainer in Tohjo, let alone Hoenn.

He jumped back, catching himself on the rock, his clothes billowing with heat as an orange-and-black shape swept past, leaving a heat-shimmer in its wake. Swellow flared, wings snapping out, and Brody winced—_that had to hurt_. The bird managed to catch the heat of the massive dog's attack and lift herself up on it rather than ram right into it as she would have had she maintained the Aerial Ace. Sure, she would have hurt the arcanine—but she would've got a lot more than a few singed tail feathers in return, too.

_Not worth it._

'Quick Att—'

Scarlet light flared, the vaporeon returned, and Brody's order died on his lips as his eyes properly registered the arcanine's trainer for the first time: blonde, blue-eyed, with a thin face and thick hair and a flash of red at her throat—

_Keegan …?_

'Agility!'

The arcanine sprang aside from Swellow as she flickered past, the bird flaring and banking sharply, almost tumbling when her wing scraped the ground. Nimbly the arcanine leapt over the scattered debris before it, and then with a flick of its dusty white tail and a flash of white-ruffed paws was gone.

They were escaping—they—they _had_ escaped—but Brody's muscles and vocal chords didn't seem to want to work to stop it.

He just … couldn't move.

_It can't have been her,_ he rationalised. _It can't have been her because she's dead and has been for years and if she's alive then all of this was for nothing and it _can't_ have been for nothing because if it was then what are we worth and_—

'Brody,' a hoarse and broken voice said from somewhere to the side, and then someone coughed and it came again, cleaner, smoother: '_Brody._' accompanied by a scuff of dirt and pebbles bouncing off the side of his leg.

'It wasn't her,' Brody said. 'It wasn't her, it can't've been her, it couldn't, it wasn't—'

He was shaking—no, he was _being_ shaken, and he snapped out of his transfixed daze to find Larry was before him, his lined face weathered by dust and shock but grey eyes clear—mostly—and determined—_desperate_.

'It was her. She had the pendant, Brody, it was _her—_we have to _move,_ Brody, we can't let her get away. Forget Cinnabar; Keegan is more important than all the volcanoes in the world.'

Brody took a deep breath, and the world snapped back into place—but it was a different place than it had been five minutes ago. Swellow was crouched on a rock, head cocked with concern; a slight breeze was drifting through the ravine, carrying with it the smell of fire and dampness and burned dust; Larry was waiting for him—again—because he had stopped to think too much—again.

He couldn't afford to think anymore.

Keegan was alive.

Right then, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Tynan kicked at the ground. He was frustrated, he was bored, and there was that kind of clammy humidity in the air which made his clothes stick to him and godammit it was _annoying_.

After spending three days trapped in Fuchsia because of the storm, he'd been happy to get out of the city. As far as he was concerned, Fuchsia City and all its surroundings and _especially_ the gym could go drop off the map into non-existence. He didn't want to think about what had happened there. He could get by perfectly well _without_ thinking about what had happened there.

Only what had happened there seemed not to want to leave him alone, until as much as he tried _not_ thinking about it, that's how much he seemed to end _up_ thinking about it, and it was racing around in his mind until his head seemed to throb with Janine's words.

Because, fuck it all, as much as he didn't want to admit it, she was right.

Well, she was right about the fact that Marowak had taken the lead. Tynan liked to think that if the assertive (arrogant) dinosaur hadn't done so he'd have done perfectly well on his own—

But that was the part Tynan knew was a lie.

Then, when he'd reached Cinnabar—about ready to skip and dance with the knowledge he was out of Fuchsia—he had stopped in at the Pokémon Centre and emerged ready for almost anything (except another ninja).

That was when he realised he didn't have a fucking clue what he wanted to do on Cinnabar. Sure, it was one thing to say you were going to go out and train at gyms, but given his recent experience he wasn't sure he wanted to go near a gym at the moment (assuming he could even _find_ it, because Blaine was known as a riddler for a reason). And other than that, there wasn't a whole lot to do on Cinnabar.

There were the hot springs, but he'd been on Cinnabar for two days and had already gone to them, and there was only so much time he could spend soaking before he got bored.

But what annoyed him the most was the realisation that, despite assertions of the contrary, he was _still fucking following someone else's lead_. He had been since Celadon. He had wanted to figure out what the hell made trainers like Erika and that Keegan girl so … not strong, he doubted Keegan would last two minutes against Erika, but confident?

Not quite the right word, since _he_ was confident, but he didn't know how else to describe it.

In any case, he hadn't known where to start, so he'd followed Keegan. He'd followed her to Fuchsia, and now he'd followed her to Cinnabar, and he hadn't been following her for long but it still rankled that Janine seemed to be right in more aspects of his life than simple battling. If it could have been called a battle, when he had practically been _victimised_ by the traps in the gym.

_Fucking ninja._

So now he was doing just about the only thing he could do while on Cinnabar (because he could have left, but he didn't know where the hell he would go to next, since he was still, fuck it all, waiting for some kind of cue). He was finding a secluded, open stretch of land (which, considering Cinnabar was an island, there weren't a whole lot of in general, but it was a fairly _big_ island and managed to hide its gym, so there had to be spaces somewhere) so he could train.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd go about doing that either, since most of the training done at the academy had been battling with other students or strategising and not a whole lot of actual individual practice, but he decided he could figure that out when he found a place he liked, and meanwhile he felt as though he was actually doing something under his own steam.

It wasn't much, but it kept him from feeling like he had to punch out a wall, which was a rather new feeling, all things considered.

With a growl Tynan peeled the front of his shirt away from his body, cursing the humidity and the overcast sky and half wishing it would just rain, dammit, because even though he'd be wet at least it wouldn't be stuffy. Or _as_ stuffy, anyway. He trudged down the path, rounding an elongated boulder jutting out from beneath a tangle of rocks, weeds and the shrubbery that passed for trees on this god-forsaken oven of an island.

He ended up almost tripping over the very spiffy if slightly dusty motorbike lying on the ground in the pile's shade. As it was, his toe caught on the tyre, wrenching his ankle slightly, and he spent several seconds hopping, skipping and stumbling over the bikes—there were four of them—to avoid either stepping on them and possibly breaking his ankle as he fell, or just falling over and possible breaking his ankle on the pebbly ground anyway. He resisted the urge to kick the things: with his luck, that would probably just give him a broken _toe_.

Instead he swore mightily, leaning against one of the rocks to massage his ankle. There were obviously people nearby, so he was going to go out on a limb and say this wasn't the kind of area he wanted to be training in.

Shaking his foot as if that would help ease the slight twinge in his ankle, he set it down and stomped past the bikes, following the path—if it could be called a path—beyond them where it led between a copse of bushes and another jumble of rocks.

Before he got there, however, voices sounded remarkably near in front of him, somewhere through the foliage, and he stopped short. _I don't want to meet anyone—may as well leave._

He barely managed to move before a group of people came up the path, through the undergrowth. They froze when they saw him, all of them clad in black and red—and the red was in the scarf around the lead man's neck and the big 'R' adorning the front of their shirts.

'_R'. An 'R'._

_Team Rocket._

Tynan stared at the letter, unable to look at anything else, its black backdrop seeming to expand to fill all his sight like the great untameable and unstoppable force it represented. Then a pokéball snapped with a releasal and Tynan's head jerked up, his entire body moving with him in a backward step as he was abruptly presented with the grim, staring eyes of the leader and his weezing.

For an instant he was aware of everything: the coarse feel of his damp clothes sticking to him; his hair, limp and heavy from the humidity but still drifting on the slightest of breezes; his breathing, quick, too quick, so that he felt as though he couldn't possibly be getting enough air; his heart pounding in his ribs, so harsh that it pulsed throughout his entire body; his skin tight and close as if only he could shed it he could flee light as a bird, because right then he _couldn't fucking move_—

'Sludge.'

The dispassionate voice seemed to make everything snap, the broken pieces of a window—mirror, _life_—shoved back into places that weren't quite the same as they had been, but close enough that between one moment and the next Tynan found himself behind a far-too-small rock on the furthest side of the clearing, away from any exit and huddling into the rough stone like a little kid terrified of the monsters under the bed.

But Team Rocket _was_ the monster under the bed. They were every _sane_ trainer's worst nightmare—to be confronted with them, to be reminded that not all was right with the world and monsters existed. The worst nightmare, but the kind that no one ever believed would happen to _them_.

And yet there he was, confronted by the monster and cowering like a child. He _felt_ like a child.

A child who was going to die if he didn't fucking _do something_—but what could he do? If he tried to run on foot they'd get him even if he made it to the path he'd come down by, but his murkrow didn't have the strength to Fly him away and he had no other pokémon which could possibly help him to escape—

No other _pokémon_.

_The bikes. Fuck, the bikes!_

The sky was turning into a filmy purple haze, but his mind was starting to clear, and he pulled his coat over his mouth as a filter. He still felt like a child, but one with enough foolish courage or confidence to strike out at the monster rather than run to his parents' room.

_They're trying to smoke me out. _Made sense; why bother running after or directly attacking a panicked trainer (who likely had pokémon and could still do a bit of damage) when you could poison him and wait for him to keel over himself? But they didn't know he had Murkrow. Or maybe they suspected—flying pokémon were a dime a dozen—and just didn't care; after all, who but a truly strong trainer—or one insanely suicidal—would bother to have the courage to fight back, if courage it could be called?

_Suicide._ he found himself thinking vaguely as he released Murkrow with a wince at the loud-seeming snap. _Definitely suicide._

_But it would be suicide _not_ to do anything._

'Gust,' he whispered, and buried his face in his arms, which were resting on his knees. He lifted Murkrow up as far as he could, the bird's claws pricking his palms where he held her, and felt her shift, her centre of balance changing as she drew back her wings. A moment later his hair and clothes were caught by gusts of wind, tugging at them violently, harsh fingers of air raking through them. He heard the snap of the gale, the whoosh of gas pushed back, the skate of debris and distantly—a shouted, but unintelligible, command.

_Might not have been expecting it, but I guess they weren't unprepared for it._

That thought flitted through his head, and then Tynan flung Murkrow into the air and was on his feet, throwing Flareon's pokéball out, moving before he considered what he was doing. 'Fire Spin, Whirlwind!'

'Fuuburuu!'

'Kkrkkrkk!'

With a roar of flames the side of the clearing leading past the thicket lit up and Tynan sprinted for the bikes—and then abruptly found himself pitched forward, his ears ringing with an explosion and an inhuman scream of pain. Cinders drifted down on him as he stumblingly regained his balance and whirled around.

The image of Murkrow plummeting, tumbling in air currents, her feathers all but gone, was something that would be seared into his mind for a long time afterward. So was the smell of burning flesh, although that wouldn't hit him until after it was all over, and neither would Flareon's great keen of distress.

Later, he would try to recall the exact events and remember only the sensation of his heart thudding, breathing in ash that tasted literally like shit, and the sight of his pokémon falling against a backdrop of flames. Later, he would figure out that the flames had made the gas in the air—pushed back, but not swept away, and pushed higher overhead—catch alight. Later, he would realise he had almost killed her because he hadn't thought out his strategy well enough, and not even the knowledge that he hadn't had the time—or complete lucidity—would make up for it.

Now, it was only the knowledge that Murkrow couldn't stop herself from falling—_fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_—that had him reacting, although he honestly couldn't remember _thinking _anything. He could barely see the pokéball's red light against the flames, and for a moment it looked as though she'd been swallowed by them; but then the pokéball dinged and locked down to standby as they did whenever there was a critically injured pokémon inside, so that they weren't released accidentally by an inattentive trainer.

The flames were dimming, Flareon was darting towards him before vanishing into red light, and his mind had apparently taken a holiday because suddenly he was hurtling towards the four bikes still lying innocuously on the ground beneath the sheer ledge.

They weren't quite like the ones he knew, but that was only a dim realisation to the overwhelming _gogogogogogogogogogo_

He heaved one up and slung his leg over it, gunning it barely before he was properly _on_ it, when he just barely heard another order from behind—'Air Cutter!'—and didn't wait to look. Tyres squealed on gravel and he shot off, the rock beside where he had been bursting with dust and debris and thin slices.

The engine roared beneath him, seeming to join with the pound of his heart in his throat and ribs and everywhere else too, and every time the bike skated on gravel and he skidded—_too fast—_around a bend it seemed as though his veins _surged_ with adrenaline. He knew they were behind him: he knew it without a doubt, without even thinking it or needing to hear the roar of their bikes behind him, because they had to be—because they were the monster.

He soared over a ridge and came down on top of a speeding blur of orange and black. He didn't even have time to curse; adrenaline pumped, his arms jerked on the handlebars, and the bike wrenched beneath him. For a moment the world turned on its axis, the orange-bullet-thing slewing away from underneath him in a tumble of orange and black and yellow and blue and a tint of red. He hit the ground and the bike didn't skid so much as spin, seeming to twist beneath him while his body instinctively fought for control.

The bike jolted, his unstable seat disappeared from beneath him with a lurch, and he found himself tumbling across the ground in a flurry of clothes, dust and gravel.

And then his world abruptly stilled and he was left, gasping, on the hard, hot ground.


End file.
